


Back to that Happy Place

by LightSundqvist



Series: Someday Soon [2]
Category: Sally Face (Video Games)
Genre: Canonical Child Abuse, Child Abuse, Christian Character, Christianity, Closeted Character, Denial of Feelings, Depression, Disturbing Themes, Homophobic Language, I Gave Travis a Dog, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Not Canon Compliant, Parent Death, Religion, Sad with a Happy Ending, Self-Esteem Issues, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Travis Phelps is Bad at Feelings, fight me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2019-12-30 18:28:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 36
Words: 22,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18320837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LightSundqvist/pseuds/LightSundqvist
Summary: Travis Phelps, a boy who lashes out at everything and everyone. He doesn't have friends. He doesn't have anyone. Nobody cares about him, so why should he care about someone else?





	1. Going Home

 

 

 

Travis stepped into his house, fidgeting nervously. There was no car out front, and it seemed Ripley was still chained up out back from the sound of her barking. Travis couldn't process the night before whatsoever, it was all a painful blur. The bruise on his cheek stung, and his eye throbbed. 

 

Travis limped up the stairs, moving like wounded animal. But, he knew the second his father got home he'd feel much worse. When he reached the top, Travis went to the bathroom to get a better look at himself. He inspected his face, seeing the split lip and black eye he'd expected, but his left cheek looked horrible. It was an eyesore, to say the least. 

 

Travis sighed, limping to his bedroom. Maybe he could get some rest. Last night, he'd hardly gotten any sleep at all, but maybe sleeping in his own bed would help. 

 

Maybe. 

 

Exhausted and sore, Travis crashed onto his bed. He hadn't noticed it before, but every bone on his body ached. He could feel his ankle throbbing, and his back was hurting like a motherfucker. Slowly but surely, Travis dozed off into sleep. 

 

 

_It was such a lovely day. Travis was sitting in a wooden chair on the porch of a house. At his feet sat an old Rottweiler, obviously asleep. In front of the house was a green field dotted with colourful flowers. Two children were playing there, a boy and a girl._

 

_"You two play nice!" Travis called from his seat. He was holding a glass in one hand, the ice clinking as he held it up to take a swig._

 

_"Need a refill, love?" A familiar voice said from behind him._

 

_Travis looked over and smiled.  "Yeah, thanks," Travis grinned. Sal came over with a pitcher of lemonade, pouring some out into Travis's glass._

 

_Sal was wearing a short-sleeved white dress shirt tucked into a pair of black pants. He had a light blue apron over it all, and his mask wore a content smile._

 

_And, a shining golden ring on his finger._

 

_"They're getting along so well today," he said, a lighthearted tone to his voice._

 

_"It's from you. You always got on lovely with everyone."_

 

_Sal laughed softly. "You little flirt. I'm gonna go finish up lunch, if you can round them up."_

 

_Travis nodded, smiling. Sal went inside, and the faint smell of muffins wafted through the air as he opened the door. Travis slowly rose from his seat, the sweet aroma of flowers swirled around him as he called out the names of the two children. They stopped playing, and ran over._

 

_"Lunchtime, guys. Go on in, I'll catch up."_

 

_The two children's faces lit up as they sprinted indoors. Travis smiled sweetly, feeling the soft summer breeze against his face. He could hear them all laughing inside, chatting and joking around. Travis sighed contently, and went to join them._

 

 

"Boy, come here."

 

Travis jumped. His eyes flung open and and he sat up, limping tiredly towards his father. 

 

"Father! Hello!" Travis nervously smiled, not looking the man in the face. "What is it?"

 

"Where were you all night?"

 

Travis went pale. The question he was dreading. 

 

"I… was walking home and I got lost. I spent the night at, um," He let out a shaky breath. "A friend's house."

 

"Which friend?"

 

"Um, Andrew? From church-"

 

A hand collided with Travis's left cheek. He fell to the ground, whimpering. 

 

"Never stay out again, boy. Do you hear me?"

 

A foot with his stomach. He curled up into a ball, shaking and crying. Travis opened his eyes, and he hesitantly looked up at his father. 

 

"Pathetic. Go clean yourself up, I'm expecting company."

 

"Y-yes father," Travis climbed unsteadily to his knees. "Of course."

 

Travis heard heavy footsteps fading as his father walked through the hall and down the stairs. He pulled himself up onto his feet, holding on to the desk to keep steady. 

 

_A shower. I need a shower._

 

Travis dragged himself to the washroom again. He looked at himself in the mirror. Black eye, bloody nose, split lip, bruised cheek. 

 

 

Travis stepped into the shower, wincing as the hot water hit his back. He sat down, facing the shower head as he closed his eyes. That dream before… it was odd. Travis knew it was a sin to kiss another man, let alone marry. It was wrong to dream about something like that, but at the same time, it felt so nice. It was so tame, just a happy family. The warm  feeling, the smell of muffins, the way Sal talked to him. All of it. The sweet domestic scene… Travis knew it was all wrong, but at the same time, he desperately wanted to go back. 

 

_Back to that happy place._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I actually grew up in a pretty catholic household, but it wasn't nearly as abusive as this. (Only the occasional slap on the shoulders with the ruler, soap in the mouth, etc.)  
> Also: Yes, I gave Travis a dog. I thought it would be cute.  
> Anyway, I hope you like this!  
> Please comment or leave kudos!


	2. Routine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Travis just kind of sitting at home.

Travis scratched Ripley's head absently. He was reading the book that had been assigned for English this month. It was an interesting book, one about a boy who was trapped in the woods alone for several months, needing to learn how to survive on his own. The book had some pretty glaring flaws, but overall it was good enough. 

 

Ripely licked Travis's cheek. He smiled down at her, scratching her head. She was still just a puppy to Travis, that little jumpy and energetic Rottweiler pup that he fell in love with. He convinced his father to buy her, talking about how she could be a guard dog, and would keep anyone from getting in. In reality, though, Ripley had always been a little sweetheart. She wouldn't hurt a fly, even if she sometimes barked way too loud or growled at a few too many strangers on her walks. She was Travis's anchor in reality, and without her, he'd probably go crazy. 

 

"Good girl"

 

 

_Mother was sitting in her bed, a tired expression on her face she smiled as Travis climbed up to join her, holding a brightly coloured book. He handed it to her an excited smile on his face._

 

_"Alright, Hun. Come sit," she smiled sweetly, patting the spot next to her. Travis obliged, bouncing up and down happily._

 

_"Story! Story!" He said excitedly, giggling and bouncing on his knees._

 

_"Alright, alright. You have be patient, Travis, Mother's not feeling too well."_

 

_Travis tilted his head downwards sadly. "Sorry, mother," he mumbled._

 

_Mother patted his head gingerly. "It's alright, sweetie. Now, do you want to hear the story?"_

 

_Travis looked up, grinning brightly. He nodded excitedly._

 

_Mother read the story. It was a short fairy tale, but it was always Travis's favourite. She read it to him every night._

 

 

Travis went to the kitchen to start dinner. It was almost five, and food had to be ready by about six. Ripley protested, whining when Travis stood up, but he simply scratched her behind the ear and put her outside. 

 

"Macaroni should be fine…" Travis muttered. He wasn't up for anything complicated today, and they had everything for it anyway.

He put the water on to boil and went to sit back down on the couch. He picked the book back up and continued reading from where he was. 

 

The front door swung open, and there stood Travis's father. He looked over. 

 

"Hello father, welcome home," Travis said, putting on a big smile. 

His father nodded to him, and walked up the stairs to his bedroom. 

 

Travis stood, going to the kitchen to finish dinner. He put the macaroni in the pot and started grating cheese for the sauce. Making dinner always relaxed him after a long day. It was therapeutic, cooking. The repetitive actions, the way they all come together, the almost always satisfying end product. It was the one thing Travis was actually good at. 

 

"Father!" Travis called up the stairs. "Supper!"

 

He set the table. Two plates, two forks, two glasses of water. Just like always. 

 

Father walked down the stairs and took his place at the table. Travis sat across from him. They said grace, and dig into their food without any conversation. Like always, Travis's father asked about his day at school, and, like always, Travis would just say something short. 

 

After dinner, Travis was left to do the washing up, just like every night. His father left, going to church to finish up a bit of business, and said he'd be back around ten. 

 

Travis sighed as his father walked out the door, and went to work just as it slammed shut. 

 

 

Routine. Yes, it was routine that kept Travis sane. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeeey!  
> So, I figured I'd do a couple of chapters of just Travis at home, doing whatever it is he does.  
> I'll do some of him at school too, of course, but just some domestic Travis for now.  
> Please comment or leave kudos!


	3. Good Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He may have hated the look of the sweater, but you could pry it from his cold, dead hands.

Ripely whined and scratched at the back door. Travis opened it, smiling. He had a fresh black eye, but somehow he managed to look happy.

"Okay, girl, you wanna come in?" Travis grinned. 

Ripley jumped up onto Travis, knocking him back. He laughed and pet her head before attempting to stand up. Ripley slowly backed off of him, licking his hand as if to apologize. 

"It's alright, girl, I'm fine," Travis stood up, inviting Ripley inside the house. 

Travis fixed himself some breakfast and put out a bowl of dog food for Ripley. He had about an hour before he had to leave for school, and these times in the morning were some of his favourite. It was like his father wasn't real, and all that was left was a boy and his dog. Sadly, though, that wasn't the case. His father was still real and these moments couldn't last forever. 

After eating, Travis went upstairs to get dressed. He was still in his pyjamas, a white tank top and a pair of grey shorts, and hadn't even taken a shower. 

Travis picked out some clothes and went to the washroom. He looked himself over in the mirror, seeing his black eye. Sighing, Travis threw off clothes and got in the shower. The warm water trickled down his back, calming his nerves. He thought about school. He had a test today, and he was sure he'd fail. Math was one of his worst subjects, if not the worst. English was something he was quite good at, actually, and he always got great marks. 

But, he couldn't get through school on one good grade. 

Travis got out of the shower and towelled off. He dried his hair and body as he looked at himself in the mirror. There were little scars on his chest from minor injuries as a little kid, falls and fights, but there was one he couldn't see, but always felt. It was on the back of his neck. It was small and straight, a line that cut between his head and his shoulders. Travis had never actually seen it, but he knew it was there. He couldn't remember exactly how he got it, but strangely gave him comfort. It was consistent, always there. And, though the exact memory had faded, that feeling stayed intact, sticking to Travis all his life. 

He slipped into his school clothes. They were blue jeans, a t-shirt, and the purple sweater to go over it all. He may have hated the look of the sweater, but you could pry it from his cold, dead hands. His mother had knitted it for him when he was little, saying he'd grow into it. He did, of course, but it as still a bit too big. 

Travis put Ripley outside, giving her some food and water, and her favourite toy. She'd be entertained, at least. 

Then, came the last thing Travis did every day before leaving. He stood still, silently looking at the photo that hung from the wall, just beside the bookcase. It was a family photo. A very young, very happy Travis stood dead centre between two people with the widest grins on their faces. A fair-skinned, raven-haired woman, and a tan, golden-haired man were holding hands, and Travis stood. He knew he was the spitting image of his father, and it was always painful to think about, but Travis had one thing from his mother. Her soft, hazel eyes. His mother had always said that his eyes were just like hers, and he could remember the sweet kindness, the calmness, the way she smiled and looked at him. He desperately wanted her back. He wanted to see her again, even if only for a moment. 

Travis sighed as he gazed at the photo. He could head the schoolbus honk, snapping him out of his state. Hurriedly, he grabbed his things off the dining room table and sprinted out the door. He couldn't be late to school, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHAHA  
> SOMEBODY END ME  
> GODDAMN EXAMS CAN JUST FIVK RIGHT OFF  
> HAHAHAHAHA
> 
>  
> 
> So, what do you think of this chapter? The next one will be him at school. I'm always open to critiques!  
> Please comment or leave kudos! Comments are amazing to read!


	4. Another Day

Travis walked through the hallway alone, just like always. He didn't have friends. 

 

Sal. That freak, he waved at Travis as he passed. Travis didn't wave back. He just trudged past, not making any kind of eye contact. He didn't want to look at that mask.

That goddamn mask. 

 

Travis's face felt hot. He didn't want to go to class, he didn't want to do anything at all. He wanted to just go home and lay in bed all day. He wanted to run away from everything in his life and disappear. But, he also wanted to spill his guts out, admitting everything to Sal. 

Of course, he couldn't do anything like that.

 

Sitting in the classroom before the test was nerve wracking. He was so nervous, he could barely breathe. The teacher handed out the tests, and Travis stared numbly at the paper. He couldn't understand anything on it. _This is useless_ , he thought, _I'm gonna fail right here, right now._

 

Travis's hand shook as he picked up his pencil and Tried to answer the first question. His heart pounded and his mind raced as he touched his pencil to the paper. He was scared. He couldn't fail this. 

 

 

 

Travis was alone in the lunchroom as well. He always was. Well, he wasn't alone per se, but nobody was talking to him. There was a boy named Andrew who sometimes talked to Travis, but they were hardly friends. 

 

"Just me and you again…" Travis mumbled to his sandwich before taking a bite. He loved bologna sandwiches. How could he not?

 

 

 

Afternoon classes were somewhat easy. PE, English, and then home. Travis was aware of his very noticeable black eyes, and he knew people were stating at it. He tried to keep his head down, but he couldn't hide something as obvious as a massive black eye. 

 

Travis ran his laps in PE, trying to keep his eyes off of Sal. He was talking with Larry and Ashley, like always. Travis stood by a bench and drank some water. He overheard their conversation. 

 

"-but it's still weird." Sal said. 

 

"C'mon, guys, really?" Ashley sighed. "There's got to be an explanation here."

 

"If you say so," Larry took a sip of water. 

 

"Whatever it is," Sal sounded very focused. "It's can't be good."

 

Travis threw his empty plastic water bottle on the ground and walked out into the field. They were probably going to be doing some bullshit boring game anyway. 

 

"We'll be playing soccer today!" The teacher yelled. Travis sighed. He hated soccer. 

 

He was picked to be on the same team as Ashley. It seemed reasonable, they were both pretty fast runners. It made sense someone would pick them both. 

Ashley glared at him. She seemed annoyed by his very existence. Travis shrugged it off, or at least did his best. It hurt knowing someone truly, honest-to-God hated him. 

 

They played the game. Travis's team won, but not by a lot. His legs hurt, he was sweaty, and exhausted. This was why soccer was so awful. Low scoring, and most of the game you just chase someone kicking a ball. It was time consuming and boring. 

 

Travis changed as fast as he could. He wanted to get the hell out of that filthy changing room as quickly as possible. 

 

 

 

Nobody would ever admit that they cry in private. It's humiliating. Travis always hid when he cried. If he was ever caught, he didn't know what he'd do. 

 

Travis had a specific place where he often cried. It was out near the back of the school, under a tree. It was always so quiet there. And under that old oak tree, Travis always let out all of his feelings. He'd sob for a long time, and once even missed the bus because of it. These days, Travis didn't cry as much. He more just sat in silence, enjoying the calmness. Today was not one of those days. He didn't know why, but he felt a horrible pain in his chest. His face felt hot, and his throat felt dry. Travis cried softly, his knees to his chest. He covered his face with his sleeve. 

 

"Travis?"

 

Travis stopped, and looked back. He saw Sal standing there, holding his backpack. Travis felt a deep, boiling rage in his stomach. He didn't want to see that fucking Sally Face. Not now. 

 

"What are you doing?" Sal asked. 

 

Travis balled his hands into fists. "Go away, faggot."

 

Sal took a step forward. He dropped his backpack. "Were you… crying?"

 

"No!" Travis yelled. He stood up and grabbed his backpack. He wanted to run away. 

 

"Travis, are you alright?" Sal reached out a hand. Travis smacked it away and ran. 

 

His face burned. His heart stung. His black eye throbbed. 

 

He just wanted to get home. Home. Home to his old, freezing, stuffy house. Home to his violent, unloving father. Home to the place where he's suffered for so long. 

 

 

He didn't _want_ to get home. He _had_ to get home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry for the late upload.  
> Exams are the worst thing in history, and honestly I've been going through hell this month.  
> Please comment or leave kudos! I love reading comments!


	5. Saturdays

Saturdays were Travis's favourite. He didn't have school or church, and his father was always out all day. On Saturdays, Travis could be completely alone. He could just lay in bed without any care in the world. No reason to feel scared or stressed. No reason to do anything. 

 

Ripley sat at the foot of Travis's bed, nudging his leg with her nose. She whined, and Travis sighed. 

 

"Fine," he mumbled, sitting up. "Just let me shower first."

 

Travis dragged himself out of bed to his dresser. He opened one of the drawers, sorting throught the neatly folded clothes for something to wear. He picked out a pair of blue jeans and a grey shirt. He walked to the washroom and shut the door. Taking off his clothes, Travis looked in the mirror. Different sized bruises dotted his chest and stomach. Some newer, still dark purple, while others had faded to a faint yellow or brown. He cringed, seeing the amount of injuries. It's not that his father hated him, of course. His father loved him very much. Travis knew that. This was just how he showed his love. He was helping him be better. 

 

As he stepped into the warm shower, Travis relaxed. The tension in his shoulders disappeared as the hot water flowed over his body. He sighed, showers were truly wonderful. 

 

Travis dried his hair and slipped into his clothes. He threw the purple sweater on as well, as it was a bit cold outside. Okay, it wasn't. It was actually quite nice. He put the sweater on anyway. 

 

Ripley barked at Travis when he opened the bathroom door, her leash in her mouth. Travis laughed, taking the leash from her. He hooked it to her collar, and she promptly dragged him down the stairs. Travis laughed, and Ripley scratched at the front door. 

 

"Alright there, I'm coming!" Travis laughed, opening the door. "You really do need this walk…"

 

They strolled down the street, Travis humming a quiet tune. He looked around at the serene neighborhood, the green grass of the well-kept lawns shining on the midday sun. Ahead, there was a slightly smaller house. Travis groaned, pulling on Ripley's leash. He tried to steer her to the other side if the road, but she didn't budge. He kept trying, but it was too late. They walked by a girl with long, brown hair and a little boy playing in the front yard. Travis tried to avoid eye contact. And, to his surprise, Ashley stood up. 

 

"Travis!" Ashley called. 

He stopped and turned. "What?"

Ashley caught up with him. "Can I pet your dog?"

Travis tugged on Ripley's leash. "No. Leave me alone."

Ashley was already petting her. Ripley's tail wagged and she licked Ash's face.

"Seems he wanted me to pet him."

"She," Travis corrected quietly.

Ashley rolled her eyes. "Fine. _She_ wanted me to pet her."

Travis stood awkwardly while Ashley and Ripley played.

The little boy who had been content pulling up grass before started crying, and Ashley stopped.

"Oh, got to deal with this. Bye-bye, puppy!"

She glared at Travis and went to deal with the screaming toddler. Travis stood there for a second, and kept walking. He heard Ashley laughing and cooing, calming down the kid. Travis heard soft laughter as he turned the corner to go down another street.

"What the fuck was that?" Travis muttered. It wasn't uncommon, people often asked to pet Ripley when they went on walks. But… Ash hated Travis's guts. Why would she speak to him at all?

They did their regular rout around the block and a bit further. Travis felt his fear melt away with the lovely afternoon light. He knew he had to be home soon. Ripley wined, practically dragging Travis to the front gate of his yard. He laughed, and opened it. Ripley bounded forward, nearly breaking down the front door. Travis unlocked the door, and Ripley jumped to the couch.

Another reason Travis liked Saturdays was that he didn't have to cook unless guests were coming over. He could just lay on the couch with a good book and relax for a change. Well, relax as best he could in that old stuffy house.

Travis sat on the couch, suddenly painfully aware of how hungry he was. It was late afternoon, and he'd barely eaten. He trudged to the kitchen and opened the fridge. There wasn't really anything to eat. He dug through the cupboards, and eventually found something passable; a box of crackers. They were flavourless and kind of stale, but it beat starving.

Travis didn't have a TV. He knew that a lot people had them, they always talked about their favourite shows at school. Travis's father always talked about the dangers of television, how all of those shows were horrible and the people in them were all sinners living in filth. Travis didn't particularly like TV, or at least the shows he'd used to watch at his old friends' houses. He liked books and radio, neither of which were too noisy or hurt your eyes too much.

Travis wanted to get some more sleep, just doze off for a few hours before father got home. He layed back in the couch, resting his head in a decorative pillow. His eyes drifted shut, and he slowly fell into sleep.

 

 

_Father pulled Travis into the house. Travis was crying and kicking, trying to run. Father held onto Travis's collar and threw him into the middle of the living room._

_"Do you know what you have done?" Father hollered. "Do you know, boy?"_

_Travis didn't understand. He'd just been playing a game, hadn't he? He sat on his knees and cried. Father smacked him. Travis fell onto his side._

_"Answer me!"_

_Travis shook his head frantically. Father grabbed his belt and stood intimidatingly over Travis. There was a loud scream as it snapped against Travis's back. He cried and begged for his father to stop. Mother stood in the corner, an unreadable expression. Travis reached out his hand to her pleadingly. She frowned, disappointed. Slowly, looking into Travis's eyes, she shook her head. He sobbed more as the belt snapped against his back. Mother crossed her arms and left. She ignored Travis's crying as she stepped into the kitchen and out of sight._

_It wasn't that she ignored him, it was the expression in her face of complete and utter disappointment. It dug into his soul._

_But all he'd done was play a game. Right?_

 

Travis sat up dizzily. He ran his fingers through his golden hair and looked around at the room he was in. The blue carpet sat where it always had, in front of the couch, close to the centre of the room.

Father stood in the doorway and looked at him. On instinct, Travis cowered. After feeling nothing for a moment, he glanced at his father. He seemed unhappy, but not angry. Travis quickly apologized and ran up the stairs. He shut his door quietly behind him and sat at his desk. There were scribbled notes in barely legible handwriting littered the old wooden surface. Some were half-done essays for school, others notes to people that he would never give any of them.

Travis dug through his desk drawer, rifling through old assignments and unpracticed piano music. He didn't know what he was looking for, really. Just something. Suddenly, Travis's hand brushed the hard cover of a children's book. He grabbed on and pulled it out.

Sitting there, on that old wooden desk, was a colourful (if slightly faded) children's book. Travis leaned forward and rested his head on the desk. He could feel the tears coming. He covered his face with his sleeve and tried not to cry. His shoulders tensed up, and relaxed. He breathed slowly as warm tears rolled down his face. There was a soft feeling that made his head go fuzzy. It was a feeling of comfort and warmth. He still cried, but it felt different. It wasn't from pain or fear or anger, more for simple release. He smiled and wiped away his tears. He sat up and stared at the book. He'd always had it, but hadn't seen it since his mother left them. He must've hidden it to keep himself from thinking about her. Travis put it on his near empty bookshelf and laid down in his bed. His head still felt a bit fuzzy, and the warmth of his bed probably didn't help.

With that feeling, though, sleep came much easier than most nights at home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! This took a bit, but I hope it's worth it!  
> Please comment or leave Kudos! I love reading comments!


	6. First Contact

Ash sat in class, chewing on her pen. She was dreading lunchtime. She knew what Sal had said, but she still didn't really like Travis. The bell rang, and Ashley watched Travis get out of his seat. She sighed, gathered her books, and started in her way to the cafeteria. 

 

In the line for lunch, Ash glanced at Travis, sitting there at his table. There were people around him, but nobody next to him. All he was doing was staring down at his food. Ash looked at Sal, who was sitting at their normal table. He nodded to her. This was their only chance, Larry was absent, and couldn't interfere. Ash went to sit next to Travis. 

 

He didn't look at her when she sat down , and Ash almost though he didn't even notice her. 

 

"What are you doing?" Travis spat. 

 

Ash blinked. "Sitting by you?"

 

"Okay, but why? Did that blue-haired freak put you up to this?"

 

"Uh… no," Ash glanced at Sal, who was pretending not to watch. 

 

Travis glared at her. "If you say so."

 

He looked back down at his sandwich and took a bite. 

 

"What do you have?" Ash asked. 

 

"A sandwich," Travis muttered. "What does it look like?"

 

"Uh- did you make it?"

 

"Yep," Travis said quietly. It seemed he really wanted to stop talking. But, Ash wasn't letting him off that easily. 

 

"Do you cook a lot?"

 

"Uh-huh."

 

"Do you cook dinner for your family?"

 

"For my dad, yeah."

 

"Not your mom?"

 

Travis clenched his fists. He was gritting his teeth, and Ash probably should have left right there. She pressed Travis further. 

 

"What's wrong?"

 

"It's nothing. Leave me alone."

 

Ashley reached for Travis's shoulder. 

 

Travis flinched, blocking his face with his arms. His eyes were shut and his jaw was tight. He was… cowering. Ash put her hand down, and Travis quickly turned back to his food. She noticed his black eye and slightly bruised hand. 

 

"What was that?" Ash asked after a moment. 

 

"It was nothing. Leave me _alone_."

 

"But-"

 

"I said it was nothing!" Travis stood up and walked out of the cafeteria. Ash watched, mouth gaping. 

 

She went back to Sal's table. He laughed quietly. 

 

"That didn't look like it went very well." He said. 

 

Ash nodded. "Yeah, but did you see that? When I put up my hand…"

 

"I know. Look, could you go find him? He doesn't talk to me."

 

Ash groaned. "Do I have to?"

 

Sal gave her a hard look. "Yes, please."

 

Ash nodded. "Okay. Alright. Do you know where he might've gone?"

 

"There's an oak tree out back. If you hurry, you might find him. I've seen him there a bunch of times."

 

"Okay. I'm gonna go," Ash got up and ran out the door. She flung open the back door of the school and looked out over the field. Just like Sal said, there was an oak tree, and Travis was sitting under it. Slowly and carefully, she approached him. 

 

She stood by him, and he slowly looked up. He had tears streaming down his face, and his eyes were red. He looked back down at his hands, and brought his knees to his chest. 

 

"… go away," Travis said quietly. 

 

"No, Travis. What's wrong?"

 

"I…" Travis narrowed his eyes and stared straight forward. "I said go away."

 

Ash laughed dryly. "What's wrong?"

 

Travis didn't say anything. He sighed and his his face behind his sleeve. "Why the hell would I tell you? All your going to do is tell the freak everything you heard. And besides, I thought you _hated_ me."

 

Ash nodded. "I won't, I promise."

 

"Words are cheap. You could break that promise whenever you want."

 

"But I won't. Travis, would I lie?"

 

"Yes."

 

"When?"

 

"You told me that the blue-haired freak didn't set you up for this."

 

Ash groaned. "Okay. You don't have to tell me anything, but do you want to ride home together? We live on the same street."

 

"Why should I?"

 

"So…" Ashley stopped. She couldn't very well say that Sal wanted her to, and she didn't exactly have any other reasons. "Because you always look like you're lonely when you wait at the bus stop."

 

"Don't you ride your bike?" Travis muttered. Ash mentally kicked herself. 

 

"I'll ask one more time. Do you want to ride the bus together?"

 

"…" Travis uncovered his face. "If you'll stop pestering me, fine."

 

Ash smiled. "Alright, it's a deal."

 

At that moment, the bell rang. Ashley stood up and ran inside, Travis following after. 

 

The bus rude was awkward. Neither Ash or Travis spoke the entire way, and they were both pretty clearly uncomfortable. When they reached their stop, they walked together to Ash's house. 

 

"Do you want to come in?" Ash asked, motioning to the door.

 

Travis shook his head. "No. I'll just go home."

 

Ash watched as Travis trudged down the street to his house. She noticed a very slight limp in his walk, thinking back to what he'd done earlier when she'd raised her arm. That, and the black eye. 

 

She opened her door and stepped inside her house, thoughtful. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyy!  
> This took a bit, and I'm not super satisfied. It's a chapter, though. Hope you like it!


	7. Rainy Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Explicit Self-Harm. Soo... if you're sensitive about that, don't read.

Travis walked out of school on that rainy day, desperate to get home. To his surprise, Ash was waiting there. She waved to him, motioning for him to come over. He sighed, but obliged. 

 

"What do you want?" Travis said when he reached Ash. 

 

"I'm riding the bus today. Wanna sit together?"

 

Travis took a step back. "Um… what? I thought-"

 

"C'mon! It'll be fun, right? You always sit alone."

 

Travis gritted his teeth. "You're going to be just as stubborn as before, huh?"

 

Ash smiled and nodded. "You know it."

 

Travis and Ash walked onto the bus. Travis took his regular seat near the back, and Ash say next to him. Unlike the last time they rode the bus together, the two actually had a conversation. Ash rambled on about her brother and stuff, while Travis just occasionally gave his opinion. When ash asked about Travis's home life, all he said was that he lived with his father. Ash didn't seem satisfied, but didn't push him to elaborate. The bus reached their street and they got off. Walking down the sidewalk, it started raining harder. Ash put up her hood. 

 

"God, Travis, you're gonna be soaked when you get home," She said when she saw Travis was still wearing that same purple wool sweater as before. "Won't your dad get upset?"

 

"Not if he doesn't know. I'll have to shower and do laundry when I get home, and I needed to clean the floors anyway."

 

Ash looked at Travis, astonished. "You do all the chores? What about your dad?"

 

"He's busy," was all Travis said. Ash tilted her head. 

 

"Yeah, but _all_ of the chores? Shouldn't your dad do some?"

 

" _He's busy_. Look, I do the chores because Somebody has to."

 

"Okay," Ash smiled. "I feel sorry for you, but I can't stay in the rain this long. This is my stop."

 

Ash grinned, waved, and sauntered into her house. Travis grumbled, and kept walking. Ash was right, he was freezing and soaked to the bone. But Travis hadn't expected it to rain like that. He scratched at his arm, and winced when he felt the scar there. Today was awful, worst than most. 

 

Travis slammed the door behind him and put his shoes on the rack in the entry way. Carefully, he removed his sweater and brought it to the laundry room. While the washer was going, he went upstairs to clean the kitchen floors. He got down in his hands and knees and carefully cleaned up shards of glass from the floor. Father must have come home on a lunch break and gotten upset. Travis didn't like his chores, but he tolerated them. When he finished, he went into the laundry room to get his sweater. The rest he'd done in the morning. 

 

He opened the bathroom for and quietly shut it behind him. Looking in the mirror, Travis frowned. Bruised cheek, split lip, a cut on his nose. He looked so _pathetic_. Stripping off his clothes, Travis sat on the edge of the tub. He looked down at the longs scar that stretched from the top of his wrist to almost his elbow and sighed. He held up one of his father's razor blades and shut his eyes. 

 

"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven…" he whispered quickly before slicing across his forearm. Travis bit his lip and winced, but did it again. He counted up to seven, and sliced. Seven and slice. Seven and slice. Everything he'd done wrong that day. Seven and slice. 

 

When he opened his eyes again, Travis's arm was covered in cuts and blood. He stared down at what he'd done, satisfied, before turning on the shower.

 

"Wash away the sins," He muttered. "Wash them all away."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, but I've plenty more coming soon


	8. Willow Trees

 

 

 

 

 

 

_Pain was something Travis was used to. He'd endured it his entire life. He'd taken hits from bullies, friends, his father. As long as he could remember, his life was hell. There were very few places Travis had ever felt safe. One of those very few places was up in his tree._

 

_Travis's tree was a willow tree by his grandmother's house. He'd climb up and hide from the cruel, cruel world outside. Travis thought about many things when he was up in that tree. He thought about how pretty the flowers in the fields were, about the back porch with a beautiful view of them. He thought about the lemonade and muffins he would sometimes get with lunch and how nice they smelled, and about the sweet smile his mother gave to his father._

 

_Willow is a pretty name, Travis often thought. He liked how smooth it was, and how kind and sweet it sounded. It would be a great name for a little girl._

 

_Somewhere deep in the back of his mind, Travis knew that these moments wouldn't last forever. He wouldn't be able to climb this tree and escape his problems forever. And, after that one day in May, he never did again. Travis didn't leave his home after that. He didn't play with his friends, not that he had any anymore. He lost his mother, who hated him until her last breath._

 

_Yes, pain was something Travis was used to._

 

 

 

****

 

 

Travis and Ash stepped onto the bus. Whenever it rained, which happened a lot, Ash would ride the bus with him. They'd talk and walk home, ash sometimes inviting him over. Travis always declined. 

 

He felt tired. Travis always felt tired. Sleeping at home was a pain. Travis felt a creeping terror that slithered up his spine whenever he laid alone in the dark. It held on to his throat and refused to let him rest. 

 

"If you can't come over for dinner, do you want to hang out at your house for a bit?" Ash asked one day on the bus. 

 

"Um… my dad-"

 

"Oh. Right," Ash stared forward, realization dawning on her face. "Travis, does your dad…"

 

"… what?" Travis said nervously. 

 

"He's a preacher, right?"

 

"Um, yeah?"

 

"Travis-" Ash stopped herself.  "No, never mind. Forget I said anything. Sorry."

 

Travis nodded. He was almost sad she didn't say anything sometimes. If he had a way to talk to someone, maybe it would hurt less. But at the same time, Travis didn't want anyone to know. 

 

"It's okay."

 

His head was killing him. His mind was dark and clouded. Father had been harder on him lately, but it was probably just stress from work. It was Travis's own fault for making him mad. Maybe if he was better. Maybe if he could just do something right. 

 

Ash and Travis walked down the street side by side, talking casually. They didn't hang out in school at all, because of Ash's friends. None of them liked Travis at all. 

 

"Hey, Ash?" Travis said. 

 

"Yeah?"

 

"I thought you hated me. All of you. So, why talk to me?"

 

"Can I be honest?"

 

Travis scratched his arm nervously, feeling the scars and half-healed cuts. "Um, sure."

 

"The first time I talked to you…" Ash took a deep breath. "Sal told me to. He felt bad and thought you'd might need a friend, but he knew you wouldn't even let him sit anywhere near you."

 

Travis nodded, and there were a few wordless moments between them. They arrived at Ash's house, and she waved goodbye as Travis walked down the sidewalk. He felt awful. Of course the fucking freak put her up to it. She probably still hated him. 

 

Travis passed his house and continued on. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! I've got tons of these backed up, so regular uploads for a while.


	9. A Visit to an Old Friend

 

Almost every day, Travis went by the cemetery on his walks with Ripley. Sometimes, went by even without her. Today, he did. But today, he walked through the gate and inside. 

 

He stood on the edge by the fence at first, but finally went on walking in further. He walked through the rows, reading the names on the graves as he went past. Finally, though, there was the name he was looking for. He stopped, and sat in front of it. 

 

Travis laid a rose on the grave. He felt cold, and sad. The dead grass and wilting flowers around it were painful to look at. It reminded Travis of how little he visited. 

 

Sitting for a moment, Travis stared. He stared and stared and thought about his miserable excuse of a life. 

 

"I have to go, bye," Travis said quietly. "I miss you."

 

As he walked away, looking down and dragging his feet, Travis glanced back at the grave and sighed before continuing on his way. 

 

**_Emily Altmann-Phelps, beloved wife and mother. 1958-1990._ **


	10. All Those Little Notes

 

Travis had many different notes addressed  to many different people. He had a few to his father, a few to his very small amount friends from middle school, and so on. There was also one addressed to a certain blue-haired boy in his class. None if them really mattered. The ones that mattered the most were the ones he write to and about himself. He had something of a diary if you pieced together the hastily written letters and read them out. You would find a horrible, empty story about a pitiful teenaged boy who couldn't hold a single conversation without hurling insults at the person he was talking to. But, there was one other type of letter Travis wrote. Those were ones addressed to everyone. They explained everything that happened in his life and why he did the things he did. 

 

Travis could never bring himself to commit suicide. He'd considered it many times as a way to escape his torment, but he just couldn't. He was too afraid of facing death that he just didn't for a very long time. Instead, he kept everything to himself and let it build up until he couldn't take it anymore. He'd fly into a rage and start fights, or he'd sink to his knees and sob the pain away. He'd always kept his pain to himself, since his mother had left him. Before, she would comfort him when he got hurt playing outside or when he got into fights. But after the incident, she avoided him. She looked at him with disdain and would talk to him far less. She started reading him stories and playing with him less and less. When she got sick, Travis tried visiting her in the hospital, but she just took one look at him and told him to get out. Travis got in more fights after that. He tried getting his mother's attention by harming animals, people, himself, but it never worked. She just looked the other way and ignored him. That was the first time Travis had considered killing himself. He was young, too young to think about it, but he was. 

 

Travis Phelps attempted to commit suicide at 11:32 am on May 14, 1997. He went into the school bathroom during lunch and tried to slit his wrists with a switch blade. While he waited to die, someone had walked in. He saw Travis on the floor in a pool of blood and had called a teacher. Travis didn't move when the teacher called 911. Travis didn't move when he was being lifted into the ambulance. Travis didn't move when the doctors talked to the teacher and the student about him like he wasn't there and listening. Then there were the newspaper headlines. 

 

_Local Middle Schooler, Travis Phelps, Attempts Suicide in School Bathroom_

 

_Travis Phelps, Son of Local Preacher, Attempts Suicide_

 

_Local Teen Attempts Suicide in School Bathroom_

 

Travis didn't want people interviewing him, but they did anyway. He sat in a hospital bed while reporters asked him question. He barely spoke to them and never even looked them in the eye. They persisted until someone had to tell them to leave. 

 

_Why harass some kid_ , Travis thought to himself when the reporters were there. _Why do that when you could do any other story in the world there's probably_. 

 

His father came to visit once in the short time Travis was in the hospital. He just looked down at his small, quiet, and cowardly excuse for a son. All he did during that visit was sit and stare at the bandaged-up wounds on Travis's arms before leaving. 

 

But now those scars were faded. Now his mother was gone. Of course, Travis loved his mother, and she loved him. He remembered one of the nights in the hospital, his mother visited. He was trying to sleep when she came in. She sat in a wheelchair as she stayed by his bed. She didn't even know he was awake. Holding Travis's hand, his mother kissed him softly on the forehead and said nothing. 

 

Travis's eyes remained shut as his mother wheeled back out of his room. That night, Travis didn't sleep. 

 

When his father drive him home, Travis still had his arms in bandages. Father made dinner before going back to work, and Travis ate in his house alone. When the phone rang, Travis didn't answer. He didn't really care about the consequences of not answering, so why would he answer? It was probably just the school of something. 

 

After he went back to school, nobody talked to him. He didn't know why. All if his friends stopped hanging out with him. After he returned to school, Travis was alone. 

 

And he was alone now. His father was violent. His mother was dead. The last person alive who 'cared' about him probably hated him anyway. 

 

_**Do it, Travis.** _

 

Finally, Travis took a deep breath, and kicked the chair out from under him. 


	11. It Takes So Long

Dying took a long time. Very long. After the chair was gone from beneath his feet, the pressure on his throat was almost too much to bear. He struggled, kicking his feet and pulling on the rope around his neck. But, then his head went fuzzy. His tongue felt too big for his mouth. His vision depleted until all he saw was a dark, writhing void. He stopped struggling and tried to just  _finally_  die.

  
Limply, Travis hung from the ceiling in his living room. All he heard was static. There was no light. He was so cold.

  
Below the heavy static, he almost heard a scream. Then a snap before he fell on the floor. Someone gathered him into their arms.

  
Travis coughed, looking up into soft green eyes. Ash was staring at him, and smiled as she saw him wake up. She squeezed him tightly.

  
"Travis!"

  
Shakily, he wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her shoulder. He sobbed, Ash holding onto him as if he'd disappear if she let him move.

  
"I'm sorry," Travis whispered, his voice wavering. "I'm so, so sorry."

  
"No, no Travis. No. It's okay."

  
He shook his head. "I'm sorry."

  
"Don't be."

  
They're silent for a moment, Ash rubbing Travis's back. His father would be home soon. Whatever punishment he got when that happened, he'd deserve.

  
"You need to go," Travis whispered. " _Please_."

  
"No. If I'm going, I'm taking you with me."

  
"My dad will be home soon," Travis's voice was shaky, quiet. "You have to go."

  
"I'm not-"

  
"I can't go with you."

  
"Why not? Trav-"

  
"Go before he comes back!  _Please_."

  
Ash took a deep breath. "Does your dad hit you, Travis?"

  
He tensed, and pushed her away. " _No!_ " He wiped away a tear, thumb thumb brushing against his black eye. He winced. "Get out!"

  
"Where did you get that bruise? Or that black eye?"

  
"I-"

  
"And you  _always_  refuse to talk about him!"

  
"But-"

  
"Please, Travis. Don't you trust me?"

  
He covered his face. "Don't hold it against him. It's my fault."

  
"None of this is your fault. C'mere" She pulled him back into a hug.

  
Travis held on to Ash tightly, she did the same.

  
"I won't ask why you did it, Travis. I just want to know that you won't do it again. Okay?"

  
He nodded.

  
"Promise me, Travis. _Promise me_."

  
"I... I promise."

  
"Okay."

  
There was silence. It was a nice kind of silence, the type that's better than comforting words. 

  
It all came to an end in a moment. The front door unlocked and swung open. Travis stumbled off of the couch and stood up straight, staring ahead at his father.

"Welcome home, Father," Travis said cheerfully, though it was clearly an act. His hair was messy, his eyes were red and puffy from crying. Mr. Phelps stood tall in the doorway, looking down at Travis with an unreadable expression.  
  


"Travis," He said. "Who is this?"

  
"That's um..." Travis coughed and rubbed his throat. "That's my friend, Ashley."

  
Mr. Phelps nodded. "Well, Travis, I'm afraid she needs to leave. You have chores to do."

  
Ash got up and stood next to Travis. 

  
"Sorry, sir. Can Travis come over to my house tonight?"

  
Travis turned his head and looked at her in horror. He mouthed the word  _no_.

  
Mr. Phelps shook his head. "Afraid not, miss. That won't do. He has chores to do."

  
Ash squeezed Travis's shoulder. "Ah, yes. What about tomorrow?"  
  


"Once again, I'm afraid not."  
  


Travis looked back at his Father, concern clear on his face. He could read that unreadable face.  
  


"Ash, it's fine," Travis smiled. "Father, I'll show her to the door."  
  


Mr. Phelps nodded in approval, and Travis grabbed Ash's hand. He pulled her into the entry way, and lowered his voice.  
  


"Meet me by the front of the church later. If I'm not there, go home. Don't come here."  
  


Ash nodded, slipped on her shoes, and stepped out the door.  
  


Travis turned back to his father, still standing in the doorway. Fell to his knees and bowed his head, awaiting the punishment that would most certainly come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took too long!  
> There was an incident, and I ended up getting put in the hospital for a bit (Nothing violent or anything-Medical condition), but i'm fine now.  
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and sorry about the last one. You know I wouldn't let my baby Travis die.


	12. A Promised Visit

 

"What have you done, boy?" Father slapped Travis across the face. "What on God's Earth were you thinking?"

 

Travis didn't answer, taking the hits one by one. He deserved them, after all. 

 

"I gave you everything! You just want to embarrass me, huh? Ruin our reputation a second time?"

 

More hits, more pain. 

 

_I deserve this._

Travis heard his father remove his belt. He stared in horror, his entire body shaking. Not again. 

 

He tried to run, but there was no place to go. The crack of the belt on his back was enough to make him cover his ears and curl up into a ball. More times, more pain. He could feel the wool of his sweater tearing on the back, and tried to block out everything. He covered his ears and shut his eyes. 

 

_I should've done better._

_I could've done better._

" _Get out of my house_."

 

"Wha- what?"

 

"Get out of my house. You're sleeping outside with that mutt tonight. You need to learne your lesson, boy."

 

Travis scrambled to his feet. His father watched him limp past and stand in the entry way. Putting on his shoes, Travis dragged himself out of the house. He felt His father's eyes burning into his back as he quietly shut the door. 

 

It was dark outside, as it was early November. Travis felt the cold air on his skin and sighed. He had to get to the church. 

 

Whole he walked, Travis pulled off his sweater and looked to check the damage. It was ripped and frayed, bit nothing he couldn't repair. It would just a take a bit…

 

Travis thought about how dead he'd be if his Father knew he could sew. 

 

Maybe Ash wasn't at the church. Maybe she'd gotten some sense into her head and had just gone home. Maybe she'd finally figured out what a monster Travis was and had just forgotten about him. 

 

At the church, there didn't seem to be anyone at first, but then there was the faint outline of a person against the dark sky. Travis called out to the person. 

 

"Ash?" He called. 

 

The figure turned, revealing… a person. A random person. Someone Travis didn't know. The person's face was half hidden beneath a hood, but Travos could see an unnaturally wide grin. In the blink of an eye, the person disappeared. Only Ash stood there now. 

 

"Travis!" She grinned. Her regular, human grin. "Oh thank god. Are you okay? Come sit down."

 

Ash brought him to a bench in front if the church. She sat and parted the spot next to her, still smiling. Travis joined her. 

 

"Are you okay?"

 

Travis shrugged. "I'm… yeah, I'm okay. It's fine."

 

Ash frowned. She put a hand on Travis's face, feeling around. Her hand brushed his right cheek, and he winced. 

 

"That doesn't seem okay…"

 

Travis laughed nervously. "It's fine. I already had that."

 

"That doesn't make it better, Travis."

 

He huffed, but didn't complain as Ash checked his face for injury. It was nice having someone care for him. That was, until she reached for his arm. 

 

"No!" Travis said, a bit too loud. He pulled his hand away. 

 

"Travis- what are you…?"

 

She stared at his arms. He wasn't wearing his sweater, so all he had was a t-shirt. There were cuts and scars littering his skin, and he was doing a terrible job at hiding them. Travis mentally kicked himself for not putting the sweater back on. 

 

"Why…" Ash reached forward, slower this time. Travis let out a slow breath and let her check his arms. She felt the cuts slowly, fingers gliding softly over each one. "I get it, Travis. I get why you do it. But… why hide it from me?"

 

Travis teared up. "I- you're- I don't know!" He took quick shallow breaths, choking on random words that he was trying to form into a sentence. 

 

"Travis, breathe. Slowly. C'mon, I know you can do it."

 

Travis's breathing slowed a bit, and he managed to form a sentence. "I… didn't- I didn't want to worry you. You're like my big sister kinda. You care."

 

Ash smiled sweetly and pulled Travis into a hug. "You're like the little sister I never had, Trav."

 

Travis laughed. "If it was anybody else, I'd be fucking livid."

 

"I know," She sighed. "That's why I said it."

 

Sweet quiet. Nice, happy silence. 

 

Ash put a hand on Travis's head, scratching his hair lightly. His eyes closed slowly, and he rested his head on Ash's shoulder. It was getting cold out here. 

 

"How'd you get out of your house?"

 

"My Father said I'm sleeping outside tonight. Punishment."

 

"Are you kidding? It's freezing out here."

 

Travis shrugged. "It's my own fault."

 

"None of this is ever your fault. Don't say that," Ash smooths out Travis's hair. "Please."

 

"I'm sorry," he says quietly. 

 

"Stop apologizing."

 

"Sorry."

 

Ash nudged him with her shoulder. Travis yawned. The slow rhythmic movement of her basically petting him mixed with the consistency beating of her heart was just making him feel so calm. He wanted to fall asleep and stay asleep. 

 

_She just stopped you from doing that, dipshit._

 

"I don't want you to go back there," Ash says after a few minutes. Travis smiles slightly. 

 

"I have to go. It's my home."

 

"Doesn't sound like much of a home to me…" Ash mumbles. Travis doesn't respond. Ash sighs. "Try to get some sleep out here. Better than your back yard."

 

Travis nodded, tearing up. He pulled his knees to his chest and closed his eyes. Ash rubbed his back slowly. 

 

"You'll be okay, Trav. I'm here."

 

He let out a breath and let his shoulders relax. Ash sounded just like his mother. He missed her so much. 

 

For a little bit, the world finally went away. It left him alone for once. It let him be happy for at least a while. 

 

Despite the cold, Travis felt warm and comfortable. Ash held him and lightly stroked his hair as he leaned against her. His eyes drifted closed, and he let himself fall asleep. 


	13. Outside the Church

His eyes opened slowly. Travis looked at his darkened surroundings. He was on the bench in front of the church, and Ash was next to him. She was still asleep, so Travis nudged her lightly.

"Get up," He said quietly. "C'mon."

"Wh- Travis?" Ash yawned and rubbed her eyes, sitting up. She looked at him drearily. "What's up?"

"I have to go home. It's Sunday, and we're in front of the church."

Ash nodded and stared down at her lap. "I know. I can't stop you from going home."

She was visibly shivering. All she had on was a light coat, and Travis was just in a goddamn T-shirt. He picked up his sweater off the ground. It was damp.

_Well, of fuckin' course. You left it on the ground all night._

"You look cold," Travis said. "You should also go home."

"Y-yeah. Sounds good."

"..." Travis stayed sitting for a moment. "I promise, once I get the chance, I'll come an see you."

Ash nodded softly. "Okay. But remember, you promised."

They walked together, a comfortable silence settling over them. After last night, things felt better. Travis felt hopeful, maybe he could even convince his father to let him and Ash hang out or something...

Probably not, but maybe.

"Hey, Ash?"

"Hm?"

"Um.. why did you even come to my house last night in the first place?"

"I was just checking on you. You seemed a bit upset on Friday, so I thought I'd see how you were doing."

Travis nodded.

"Oh, and..." Ash rifled through her pocket for a moment and pulled out an envelope. "You left this on your doorstep."

Travis took it, looking it over. "Thanks... for not opening it."

"I wouldn't without your permission."

Travis clutched the envelope tightly.

"And hey," Ash put a hand on Travis's shoulder. "I'm always here, okay? I'll always be here to talk to you."

Travis wiped his face. "Yeah..."


	14. Please?

"You okay, Travis?"

"I'm good. Headache." 

Ash picked at the grass. "There's a party Friday night... wanna go?"

"I can't. My Father–"

"Sneak out! Please?"

"I can't."

"I can help!"

Travis sighed and rolled onto his side. "Fine. Can't say I'll enjoy it, but fine. You owe me."

"Good enough!"


	15. A Night I'll Forget

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait!  
> Been a bit busy, but I hope you enjoy!

Travis stepped out the back door. The night air was cold on his skin, and the sky was dark. Quietly, he slipped into the front yard and stood there a moment. Ash sat across the street in her mother's car, reading a book. Travis lightly knocked on the passenger side window, smiling. She looked up, and unlocked the door.

"Let's go. It'll be fun, Trav, I promise," she says, looking at the road.

"Only if there's alcohol."

She glanced over at him uneasily. "Do you drink?"

He shrugs. "I don't have a TV, I've probably read every book on the shelf, and my Father just leaves it out sometimes."

"Ah."

Quiet. Ash's hands grip the steering wheel tightly. She seems a bit uncomfortable, but Travis can just stare out the window at the quickly passing trees. Like figures in the night. Figures of judgement. He could see those horrible, inhuman smiles again.

He shakes that thought out of his head and focuses on the road ahead.

After about half an hour, they arrived at a decently sized house. Not as big as Travis's, but decent. People were talking and drinking, and there was loud music playing. Travis grinned and walked in with Ash.

Travis stood against the wall, Ash standing next to him.

"It's okay if you want to go. I'll be fine here."

Ash nodded. "I hope so. Go on, talk to people."

Travis crossed his arms. "Make me."

"I see," Ash rolled her eyes. "I'll be off for a bit. Be careful."

As she walked away, someone handed Travis a drink. It was Phillip. Hm. He smiled and started talking, striking up done conversation.

"You gonna drink, dude?" Phillip gestured to Travis's cup.

He nodded, and took a sip. Cheap, but good. Kind of weird.

"Didn't expect to see you here, Phelps," Phillip took a drink from his cup. "Doesn't seem like your thing."

"A friend dragged me here…" Travis said.

"Hold in, you've got friends?" Phillip laughed. "Thought you were a loner, Phelps."

Travis huffed. He felt kind of dizzy.

_You haven't eaten today, dumbass._

They talked for a while, and Travis had a few more drinks.

"Let's go upstairs, dude, it's quieter."

Nodding slowly, Travis let Phillip drag him up the stairs. They sat in the hall, listening to the rhythmic pulse if the music downstairs.

"You smoke, Phelps?" He said, holding up a pack of cigarettes.

"No," Travis leaned against the wall.

"Hm."

They didn't talk for a bit, the two if them sitting on the floor in someone else's house. Travis took another sip of his drink. He felt his head spin. He blacked out, barely aware of anything. How many drinks has he had? He didn't feel really drunk…

Travis could feel hands on his legs before everything went numb.


	16. Stop Lying

Travis sobbed. He was alone now. He felt sick to his stomach. 

 

Dragging himself to the bathroom, Travis threw up until he couldn't anymore. Dry heaving, he was still sobbing. He felt filthy. Disgusting. Hair fell across his face, and his body trembled. He gripped the sides of the toilet until his knuckles were white. It felt like he was choking on air. 

 

"Fucking filth…" he whispered to himself hoarsely. "You're going to hell, faggot."

 

He heaved and coughed into his hand. It all hurt, so much. 

 

"God will never love you, faggot," he continued to himself. " _Never_."

 

He hurt so much. Travis could feel his insides turning. He tried to throw up again. And again. Get the filth out of himself. All he could do was wheeze and choke and cry. Pathetic. 

 

Hands touch his back. Travis tensed, and didn't move. The hands moved in a slow circle on his back. 

 

"Don't worry. It's okay, Trav."

 

He let out a shaky breath and didn't relax. 

 

"Stop lying to me!"

 

"What?"

 

"It's not okay!" He was trembling.

 

"It's not your fault, you're drunk. Let me help you get home—"

 

She reached for him, but he smacked her hand. 

 

"Don't touch me!"

 

"God, what hap—"

 

"Shut up! Just—leave me alone!"

 

Ash sighed and smiled patiently. She sat by Travis and kept her hands firmly on her lap. 

 

"I don't want your pity. Go away."

 

The room was spinning faster than was possible. Travis passed out again, his head hitting the hard tile floor of the bathroom. 

 

 

He was in a car now, driving somewhere. Travis couldn't tell where. He was in the back seat, laying down with a blanket over him. The car stopped suddenly, and Ash noticed he was up. 

 

"Sobriety checkpoint, Trav. Don't worry."

 

He rested his head on the seat as Ash talked to the man. He felt so sick. The man shined a flashlight quickly around the car and gave Ash the okay to get going. She smiled brightly and started the car back up. 

 

"Are we going to your house?" Travis asked slowly, slurring his words slightly. 

 

"Unless you want me to drop you back at your place, yeah."

 

"Wanna go to your house..."

 

Ash laughed quietly. "Okay."


	17. Stop Me

Ash woke him up. He'd been asleep for a while.

"Hey, Trav. Get on up," She said in a soothing tone. "Your dad just left your driveway."

Travis turned to her, sitting up. He had a splitting headache and his joints felt stiff and sore. Last night was hazy, but Travis could remember a few things…

He had a few drinks, then passed out. It wasn't a lot. How did it even happen? Whatever.

Then…

_Oh God._

Travis ran his fingers through his hair, his eyes wide.

"No, no, no, no, no…" he whispered.

"Travis–"

"I'm going home."

Travis scrambled to his feet and bolted. Ash yelled for him to stop, but he didn't. He flung open the front door and ran as fast as he could home. Ash stopped following. His head pounded with each step. Two blocks felt like a thousand miles. Fucking hell, what was in that drink? Doesn't matter. Go home. Shower. Wash away the sins.

Travis practically fell through his front door. He slammed his head into the wall as hard as he could.

"No, no, no!"

He sat sobbing in the floor. He was a mess. Ash would knock on the door eventually.

_I don't want her help._

_I'm fine alone._

_Leave me be._

She always wanted to help. She had friends, why not just hang out with them? Mother was right, Travis was just a parasite. He'll find someone, cling on to them, and make them get attached, and drain them. Just a fucking parasite. Ash was wasting all her time hanging out with him, "helping" him. She was neglecting her real friends. And Sal… put her up to it. What was Travis even, just a pet project for the freak? A fucking toy? Something broken that needed to be fixed?

 _Nah. Fuck that. So much fuck that_.

Travis dragged himself up the stairs and into the bathroom. He sat on the edge of the bathtub, one of Father's razor blades in his hand.

_One for every sin you've committed._

_Faggot._

"…six, seven."


	18. Leave Me

_Shower, food, laundry, cleaning, walk._

_That's it. Then Make dinner when Father is home and go the fuck to sleep._

Travis tried his best to relax as he showered. He wanted to forget. Forget everything. Every last thing about himself. Maybe he wouldn't be prosecuted for sins he didn't remember.

' _Do you know what you've done, boy?'_

Those were the words his Father said to him after the incident. After that beating, Travis had blocked it out completely, like the rest of his miserable childhood. He could hardly remember what he did, but he remembered Cameron. Cameron was as pretty as a flower to Travis's little mind. He was the same age as Travis. Perfect smile, with blue eyes and dark brown hair. His freckled skin was fair and soft, and–

 _No more_.

Travis sat on the floor of the shower, sobbing and bleeding. His wrists had tally marks. His face was contorted in a silent scream.

_Make it stop._

_Cameron held Travis's face, and—_

_Please._

He couldn't. Just couldn't. Travis smacked his head against the tiled wall over and over. Again and again. But the memory didn't go away.

_Father—_

_I'm begging you, stop_.

Everything went cold. The hot water ran out.

Travis held his head and shut off the shower. Did not help the hangover. He looked at himself in the mirror, at the hickeys on his neck and shoulders. Super visible. Fucking Christ. He stood over the sink, trying to throw up again. Damn near turned his stomach inside out. Slamming his fist into his stomach, Travis heaved.

_Enough of this. Eat some fucking food, dumbass._

Food. Travis hadn't eaten since… Thursday? At dinner. And he'd forgotten to go shopping on Friday. Father went out for dinner with some church acquaintances that day, too. So. Food. Eating.

Travis traced his bottom ribs with his finger. He was always skinny, since he was a kid. It was mostly a fast metabolism, but he also didn't eat out of stress from time to time. That didn't help.

Travis didn't bother with an actual shirt. He threw on a black sweater and a pair of shorts. He went down the stairs and sat at the dining room table. There was a note from Father.

_Travis,_

_I will be out for the next few days. Behave, and don't forget._

_The Lord is always watching,_

_–Father_

_Do not enter the church on Sunday_.

Okay. This is fine. Don't question Father. Bad things happen if you question Father.

 _Just get some food in you_.

The fridge didn't have much to offer. Some leftovers, a bit of juice. Barely anything. There was also some jam and bread. Travis decided that was the best option. He ate his barely–food sandwich and laid on the couch. His back hurt like a bitch.

_Sick._

_Wrong._

_Unnatural._

His feelings. That's what his feelings were. Unnatural. Unholy. He covered his eyes and rolled on to his side. Ripley was sleeping on the back porch. Safe. Thank God. And Ash was hopefully still–

Knock at the door.

Travis got up and quietly went to check. Ash, of fucking course. He stayed silent and hoped she would leave.

"I know you're in there, Travis!" Ash called.

He didn't answer. Putting a hand over his mouth, he didn't move.

"Please, I just want to talk a bout last–"

"Well have you considered the possibility I _don't_?" Travis shouted through the door. "Leave me the fuck alone!"

"But–"

"Go hang out with your faggot friends and let me be alone!"

Ash stuttered hopelessly for a moment, but sighed. "Travis–"

"Bitch– are you fucking deaf?" Travis threw his fist into the door. He heard Ash jump. "Go away!"

He looked through the peephole again. Ash looked angry.

_She'll hate you and go back to being happy._

_With her real friends_.

"Travis, this is–"

"What are you my mom? Oh well, too bad, she's fucking dead."

Ash shut up immediately. Travis realized, he'd never said anything about his mother. His rage didn't subside.

"That's… awful, I'm sorry."

This made him more angry. "I don't want your dumbass pity! I can handle myself, I have for years! I don't need you to 'protect' me, or 'help' me, or whatever the fuck you're trying to do!" He screamed. If Ash saw his face, she'd see how much he wanted to cry. Travis didn't want that to happen. "I don't need you!"

Ash looked stunned now.

"So, like I said, you can go back to your little faggot friends and leave me alone!"

Ash huffed, before stomping off. Travis turned his back and slid down the door. He didn't cry, just sat. He'd used up all his tears. But he wanted to. He wanted to cry and sob, and get rid of all these fucking emotions. They just get in the fucking way. Travis rubs his thumb on the side of his cross necklace, taking deep breath. That spot was a bit worn down, because Travis'd had it since he was six. It was a birthday present from his parents. He wanted to go to the church and just sit there, in the familiar building.

_But no church when Father doesn't bring you._

With Ash gone, Travis had nothing. It was for the best. She had better friends than him. Ones that could comfort her about her problems instead of just complaining about themselves. He didn't have the right to complain. He was fairly well-off, with a big house and nice furniture. He always had enough of everything and a bit extra. Father only punished him if he did something wrong. And that was fine. Father loved him. Loved him more than anything. And he loved Father.

Travis grabbed his purple sweater and sat in Mother's old sewing room. He was never supposed to go in, even when she was still here. He just had to fix one rip. He took a needle and thread, and carefully started stitching. He hummed softly and did his best to forget what he was feeling. He stitched and stitched and stitched. He had time, so he was careful. He tried to make sure it didn't look like it was mended, and he mostly succeeded as long as you didn't look too closely.

The room was quiet and dusty, fabric draped over chairs and shelves. It was eerie in a way, how still the air was in there. There was a cross above every door in the house, but not here. It made Travis weirdly uncomfortable to be in here.

 _Okay, laundry_.

Travis took the basket and dumped it into the washing machine. He took the warm laundry from the dryer and brought it to the bench. He folded and enjoyed the silence. The rhythmic thumping of the washing machine and the whistling of the wind outside was calming. It was raining outside again. Pouring. The rain was also calming. Normal.

Travis kept doing stuff. He made everything as neat as possible. He organized his closet and drawers. He vacuumed everything. He polished the silverware. He just had to do more stuff. Doing stuff turns off your brain. He blocked out the last night entirely. Nothing happened. Travis looked out into the rain. Ripley slept on the couch. She whined, and Travis went to sit next to her. She dragged herself on to his lap as he scratched her head.

Thunder cracked his thoughts in Half, but he didn't move. Travis leaned back and relaxed. He closed his eyes and breathed.

 _Nothing happened_.


	19. Hold Me

Travis avoided Ash as best he could. It wasn't hard, she avoided him too. He didn't mind. That was fine. At least she was happy. Sal didn't look at him at all.

_You're just a failed experiment._

_That's fine._

Travis walked into the bathroom. He sat silently in the end stall. It was cold, and kind of dark. One of the lights was out.

His head hurt. It pounded like a hammer to his brain. He couldn't focus like this.

Somebody closed the door of the bathroom. There was another person in here. The stall door was open, and Travis didn't move. He didn't breathe. The person approached the stall and looked in.

_Phillip._

Travis's jaw locked up. He stared, unmoving, into Phillip's eyes.

"Hey, there, Phelps."

He didn't answer. Phillip crouched down to eye level. He gazed into Travis's eyes.

"Are you okay? What's wrong–"

Travis started crying. Phillip jumped a bit, but his face softened.

"Hey…"

"Do you know what you did to me?" Travis almost yelled.

"I– I don't–"

"At that Godforsaken party? Do you know what you've done?" Travis grabbed Phillip's shirt and looked at him with the most pitiful expression. "I'm ruined."

"Chill, man, I wasn't even at that party. What happened?"

"Wha– what? You… I can't…" Travis let go of Phillip and leaned back. He started hyperventilating. "But– you– I–"

Phillip sat still, watching. He looked completely and utterly confused. But, he reached a hand out and out it on Travis's shoulder.

"Hey, Phelps, calm down. It's okay."

"No…" Travis didn't stop. "I'm… I'm not a fucking faggot. I'm not…"

Travis curled up into a ball, and Phillip pulled him close. He held Travis as he cried, trying to calm him.

"Tell me what happened."

"I was at the party, but you were there, and you gave me a drink, and I passed out, and then…" Travis choked slightly and pulled his collar down. There were dark hickeys littering his neck and shoulder. Tears rolled down his cheeks, and he leaned against Phillip.

"I don't know what to… I wasn't there."

Travis sobbed into Phillip's shoulder.

"I'm gonna go to hell."

"No, you're not, you're okay."

Phillip picked Travis up by the shoulder and wiped away his tears. "You're okay."

Travis smiled a bit. He leaned on Phillip as the lunch bell rang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I really wanted Phillip to be a good boi.


	20. Talk To Me

"Your dad still beating you, Phelps?" Phillip asked casually, eating his sandwich. Travis hesitated a second.

"Um… how…"

"We used to be friends. Like, seventh grade, right? Don't tell me you forgot, man."

"No… I remember. Just didn't think you did."

"Yeah, well."

They ate by the back doors of the school. Travis tried to hide his red face behind his hair. He probably needed to cut it soon. It was getting a little long. Father would be upset if it got too long, but Travis liked it that way. Long hair looked nice on him, he always thought. Phillip didn't seem to notice. After what happened in the bathroom, Phillip offered to eat with him.

_'Nobody should have to see you like this, man.'_

And he was right. Travis didn't exactly look the most presentable, and looking at him wouldn't really be pleasant. Travis didn't think about the party too much. He didn't want to.

"So, heard you started hanging out with Ash Campbell, right?"

Travis nodded.

"What happened? It looked like you were avoiding her."

_Not this now._

"Oh, um… fight. You know," Travis took another bite out of his sandwich.

"Were you guys dating or something?"

"No. Nothing like that. She was like my sister."

"Hm. Must've been a bad fight."

"Not really. I just… screamed at her for a bit. She didn't do anything wrong."

"Hm," Phillip looked out over the field. "That's kinda fucked."

"Yeah. Probably shouldn't have, but she'll be better off with the rest of them."

"Hm."


	21. Fine

Ash ran up to Travis, a concerned look on her face.

"Umm… hi," Travis muttered.

"What was that about, on Saturday? What was wrong?"

"It's nothing. Nice to see you happy."

Ash pulled Travis into a hug and squeezed. "I'm just happy you're okay."

Travis laughed. "I won't be if you keep strangling me."

"Oh!" Ash let go, and Travis coughed.

"I can't go home on the bus today. We're out of groceries, sorry."

"Oh, okay. Um... I'll see you when you get back."

"Yeah."

Travis walked on aching legs to the market. His bangs hung in front of his face, and he tried to brush them aside. Maybe if he had some hair pins or something. No, actually. Father would kill him. He'd probably shave his whole fucking head on the spot. No. Travis loved his hair. He wouldn't give it up for the world. He always hated when it was cut.

In the market, Travis picked through his list, making sure he could get everything. As well-off as they were, Travis's Father occasionally didn't give him enough money. When that happened, Father always twisted it so that it was Travis's fault. _'You should've corrected me'. 'You can't expect me to check something like that'_. Whatever. It was always less, too. Never more. God forbid Travis eat sweets or buy something he wants. That's fine. Just, fine. It'll all be fine. There's nothing wrong here. Father loves him.

It looks like today was a good day. He had about enough. Travis started putting things in the basket. He hummed and read the labels, making sure to get exactly what Father specified. And… he ended up $1.50 short. Dammit. He had to out something back. Something Father hopefully wouldn't notice. Pondering this in the aisle, someone tapped on Travis's shoulder. He glanced behind himself to see Sal standing there.

"Hey, Travis," Sal stared at him with sparkling blue eyes. "What's up?"

"Oh- um… I'm just a bit short. It's fine, I was just going to put something back…"

"How much do you need?" Sal started rifling through his pockets.

"You don't have to, it's fine," Travis brushed his hair out of his face. It was so annoying. "Really, I can just put something back."

"It's cool, I got you," Sal stopped. He looked at Travis for a moment. "You're acting pretty chill. And you haven't done much in a couple of weeks. How are…"

"I know you put her up to it. Just leave me alone."

Sal didn't talk again. He looked down for a moment, and walked off. Travis decided he didn't need to buy some small boxed cereal. It was something he wanted, but he didn't really need it. That was fine. Everything was fine. He went to the cash register and the cashier rung him up. Travis paid, and left. He trudged home. At least it wasn't raining again. It was actually pretty nice outside.

The church was having a charity event. Father asked Travis to play the piano. He hadn't played in a couple years, but Father insisted. There was a piano in the basement of the house that Travis could practice on. It wasn't that he didn't like playing, he liked it quite a bit, it's just that it reminded him a lot of his mother. She taught him, and he missed her. She and Father would watch and cheer as he played. They'd always say _'good job'_ before putting him to bed or something. Point was, he didn't want to play, but he had to. And that was fine. It was all fine.

Father came home angry. He ranted about some kids running around in church… whatever. He threw a glass and Travis managed to dodge, but Father grabbed him by his hair and slammed his face into the table. His nose started bleeding, and he excused himself to clean up a bit. Father went out to dinner with friends, leaving Travis alone.

_That's fine._


	22. A Hazy Day

Travis could really say it. He had two friends. That was a breakthrough, really. He hung out with Phillip during school, and with Ash when she had free time. That was all wonderful. He could talk and hang out with more than one person. Travis was grateful for all of it.

He asked them both of them if they wanted to go to the church on Sunday to watch him play piano. Ash said yes, and Phillip said 'sure, but I might be late', which was better than a no. Travis, for once, was excited. He wanted to play piano, he wanted to go to the church, he wanted to have fun.

He sat alone in the park for a bit, leaning against a tree. It was a willow tree. It's twisted trunk was hauntingly beautiful in a way. The sky was overcast. Probably going to rain again. It was always raining. It was like there hadn't been any all-sunny days in months. That's fine. The rain was nice too.

Ash was at Sal's house, hanging out with him. That's good. She should hang out with him more. Sal really is a nice person.

Travis thought of Phillip. The way his eyes glimmered in the sunlight. So pretty. His hair, he said it was dyed, looked so soft. Phillip's general calm and collected demeanour, and just the sweet softness in his eyes when he looked at Travis, it made his heart stop and his face go red. It made him feel bad, but good. It made his chest sting. It made him want to sin horribly. But he liked it. It made him feel warm and happy.

He curled up under the tree, that warm feeling filling his body. He'd be happy eventually.


	23. The Lord Sees All

Travis couldn't take it. He sat in front of the mirror in his room, combing his hair. It was already smooth and free of knots, but it was just something he did to calm down. His nose was dripping blood and his cheek was bruised black. But he combed his hair still. It had to be perfect. Everything had to be perfect. His clothes were pressed on his bed. He'd combed his hair obsessively. The only thing ruining the image of the perfect son was the bruises and blood. He had to fix it. He took a cloth and washed his face, but still. Bad bruise. That was fine. He fell. That's what happened. He tightened his tie around his throat like a noose. He looked in the mirror again. Fix your hair. Travis combed it more until Father called him down the stairs. Carefully, he followed Father's orders, walking quietly down the stairs.

"Have you practised?" Father asked in the car.

"Yes sir."

"Hm."

Father held the steering wheel, staring straight ahead. It wasn't nearly far enough to church that they had to drive, but they did anyway.

Travis tucked a few stray locks behind his ear. Father glanced over, but said nothing. They arrived, and Ash was already there. She was wearing a light purple knee-length dress with a white knitted cardigan over it. Her hair was tied back into a long braid down her back, too, with a little purple bow. She grinned and waved. Travis ran up.

"Ash! You know, you didn't have to get here this early."

She shook her head. "It's cool, really, I'm volunteering to help set up."

"Oh, really? Awesome! Phillip's coming too, you know."

"Like, from school? Travis, did you make another friend?"

"Don't say it like I'm five…" He rubbed his sleeve. "But yeah."

Ash smiled sweetly, and grabbed his hand. "Is there anything you need me to help with? I mostly came to support you, since I don't know anybody here…"

"Oh, uh…" Travis looked around at the usual people here. Same as always. "Not a lot, actually, so you can probably just sit with me for a bit."

Ash looked at him, puzzled. "You... don't do anything?"

"I'm not really allowed. Father always says I can't do anything right, so I shouldn't try. It's alright, really. We can just go wait inside."

She nodded, and followed him in. They sat in one of the back rooms, with old books and donated clothes.

"This place is kind of creepy," Ash said, looking around.

"Really? Guess I'm used to it."

"Hm."

Ash looked through the books, seeming interested in a couple.

"You can take some if you want. It's not like we use them."

"Really? I was just looking at them."

"Okay."

Travis leaned back in his chair, fairly comfortable in the dim room. Light streamed through the small stained glass windows, creating fractal patterns of several colours on the ancient carpet. He checked his watch, still an hour until he had to do anything. Ash was intently reading a book, one of the older fairy tale ones. Travis had always loved that one.

"That used to be mine," he said quietly. "It was my favourite."

Ash smiled. "Your name's on the inside cover. That's cute."

"Stoooop," Travis groaned.

"No! It's adorable."

They laughed. Ash looked at him. Really, really looked at him.

"You look…" She tilted her head. "Nice. It's in kinda weird."

"What do you mean?" Travis shifted in his chair.

"You look good, but you don't look like you."

"How?"

She shrugged. Travis looked up. The room had a quite high ceiling with a long dead light.

"Want to walk around?" Travis asked. "Nobody's gonna care."

"Really? Cool, let's go."

They wandered around aimlessly, Travis showing Ash all of the hidden areas he'd known since he was a small child. He showed her a small room, an old storage closet in the back, obscured by hanging clothes.

As expected, the room was dark and cramped. But there were little pictures everywhere. Some photos, others drawn. Ash picked up a photo that'd fallen on the ground. It was a grainy photo of a woman and a young boy. The woman seemed to be in her early twenties, and the boy looked around five.

"Hey, is this you?" She asked, holding up the picture. Travis, who had been looking through a shelf of random objects, looked over.

"Yeah," he smiled. "That's me and my mom."

"Wow," Ash gazed at the photo.

"It's the only one I have with her in here. This is where I put all of my special stuff."

"You should take this. Here."

She handed the photo to him, and he tucked it into his breast pocket.

"We have to go. It's almost eleven."

"Right."

Travis fixed his tie and pushed some hair out of his face. They left the tiny closet, talking. He went to the edge of the large room, on the stage, and sat on the piano bench. Ash gave him a thumbs up, and helped a lady put some food on a table. Travis took a deep breath, and fixed his hair again. Laying his fingers on the keys, he played. He played slowly and carefully. The piece was quiet and sweet, something that could put a child to sleep. But with nervousness, he played faster. Not by much. It was unnoticeable if you weren't actively and attentively listening, but it was devastating to Travis. He calmed himself and tried not to show emotion. That was his job. To sit and look nice, but not unique. Like a mass-produced doll. Pretty, but not special. He kept up the playing.

Out of the corner of his eye, Travis saw a flash of blue. He choked, his fingers freezing up. Again, only a split second, but people heard it. He could feel his father's eyes burning into him, bit he had to keep going. He had to do well. He couldn't fail. It was never an option. That millisecond of silence seemed like an eternity.

The song couldn't have ended faster.

When it was finished, people politely clapped and continued on their conversations. Travis gave a smile and went to the back room. He sat on his chair and tried not to cry. He wasn't sad or upset. All of the pressure was gone, the pressure that made his heartbeat deafening, and that only left him alone in silence. He jumped when he heard the knock at the door.

"Come in," he said in a shaky voice.

He expected just Ash, but saw Phillip walk in after. He was just in a white dress shirt and black pants, but he looked amazing. Perfect. Travis gave a crooked smile.

"Nice playing out there, Travis," Phillip said, sitting next to him.

 _Travis_.

Phillip called him _Travis_. His name. Not Phelps.

His face went completely red.

"Yeah," Ash agreed, going back to the bookshelf.

"Um… thanks," Travis brought his knees to his chest.

Phillip brushed some hair out of Travis's face. He wanted to die.

"I like you hair," Phillip said, smiling. "Looks good longer."

Travis nodded.

Lord help me.

"I like your hair, too," He said, covering his face with his hand. "Blue is my favourite colour."

Ash looked at the time. "I gotta go. My mom says I have to watch Ben."

"Okay." Travis bit his fingernail nervously as she left.

Phillip sighed, and leaned back. Travis stared at him, and he seemed to notice.

"What's wrong?"

"Can I…" Travis reached out a hand. "Touch your hair?"

Phillip looked at him for a second, then smiled. "Go ahead."

He hesitated, but put his hand on Phillip's head. His hair was soft, and cleanly cut. He brought his hand down to Phillip's face, and he looked into his eyes. Hazel eyes meet blue ones.

He didn't know what he was doing, but he didn't care. It made him feel good. Amazing. Phillip held Travis's hips as Travis wrapped his arms around Phillip's neck. When they parted, Phillip kissed down his neck. Travis ran his fingers through that soft, blue hair. The world fell away in that moment. Nothing mattered. It was all useless. Everything was in that moment.

In the house if the Lord, under his watchful eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like this chapter, I worked really hard even if it's not perfect.


	24. Happy Birthday, Travis!

"Happy birthday, baby," Mother kissed Travis's forehead. "Make a wish."

Travis hummed the birthday song to himself and blew out the candles on his small cake. Grandma and Auntie were there, smiling and laughing.

Aunt Bonnie was pretty. She had blonde hair just like Father, but her skin was a little lighter. Grandma had grey hair and lighter skin too. Mother didn't have a family. She had Father and Travis, of course, and a big brother. She didn't like talking about him, though. Travis was always sad about that, but he didn't really mind too much.

After Aunt Bonnie and Grandma left, Mother, Father, and Travis sat on the couch. They handed him a box with a big red bow.

"Open it, Travis."

Travis tugged on the bow, and it easily came loose. He took the lid off the box and looked inside. A silver cross necklace, laying on a piece of red cloth. Carefully, he picked it up and held it in front of his face.

"It's so pretty!" Travis cooed. "Mine?"

"That's right!" Father patted Travis back.

Mother smiled, and so did Father. Travis stared in awe at the shimmering cross. His first birthday present.

"Thank you Father! Thank you Mother!" Travis kicked his feet and carefully put the cross back in the box.

"You're welcome, baby." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little birthday present for the Travvy boi


	25. Father Knows Best

Travis woke up in an okay mood, but it all quickly went down the drain.

" _Travis Joseph_ _Phelps_!" Father called from the dining room.

A little scared, Travis walked down the stairs. He sat across from his father, who was holding a pamphlet. There was a Bible set down in the middle of the table, right in front of Travis.

"Yes, Father?" Travis swallowed nervously.

"The Lord sees all, boy," Father slid the pamphlet across the table, and Travis read the front.

_St. Trinity Bible Camp_

Travis looked at his father in horror. "Father, I–"

"You what? Went against me? Went against the Lord? You know what you've done."

"You won't!" Travis slammed his own head into the table. "Please, you won't hurt him, will you?"

Father, like always, was calm. He stared coldly at his son. "You will go, and you will forget about him."

Travis held back tears, barely, and nodded.

"Friday. Pack, and enjoy your last days of school."

He silently trudged up the stairs and locked himself in his room. Not this. Not now. He didn't want to go back. He couldn't.

But there was no way out.

Travis decided he wouldn't go to school at all. Father wouldn't complain, he was sure.

Father had always wanted Travis to go to the Catholic school he and Mother had gone to, but it'd closed down years ago. And Father wanted Travis to go to their church and only their church, so boarding school was out of the question. And homeschooling? Father was never home, and Mother wasn't qualified. So, public school. No alternative. Bullies tourmented him every day, for being 'the pastor's kid', or 'the goody two-shoes'. He took the abuse at school and at home until he couldn't anymore. If he couldn't protect himself when he was at home, he would at school. He started fighting back, knocking one kid out cold. After a while, it stopped being him defending himself. He started beating up anyone he could. The few friends he made were either delinquents from school or the homeschooled children from church. He couldn't ever make friends with anyone else.

When Travis got Ripley, he calmed down a bit. He felt happier when he walked her and played with her. But she didn't improve his real life. She just helped slightly from time to time.

Travis started packing his bag, trying not to cry. He had a small black suitcase that he took on the rare occasion he travelled. In there, he put very little clothes. He knew what he was in for. He mostly grabbed things he knew wouldn't be taken. Padlock, cross necklace, photos. He took a photo of his mother, one of Ash, and one of him and Ripley. He wished that he had one of Phillip, but he knew he wouldn't be able to take it even if he did.

Hopefully Father wouldn't hurt _him_.

St. Trinity Bible Camp. Travis had been there before. He was probably about eleven or twelve, and had stayed there two months. It killed him. He barely talked for weeks after he got home. By that time, Mother was already in the hospital. He had barely any friends to talk to, since all of them either knew his father or couldn't care less. That was how Travis learned to keep emotions to himself. Only faggots show weakness, and he was sent away for being a faggot.

He heard Father's car car leave the driveway, and a knock on the front door almost immediately after. Travis sighed, it was definitely Ash. He opened the door and sure enough, she stood there.

"Hey, Travis," She smiled. "How are you?"

He looked down, and gestured for her to come inside.

They sat on Travis's bed, facing each other.

"I won't be here for the summer," He said quietly.

"Why?" Ash put a hand on his shoulder, a concerned look on her face.

"Father's sending me somewhere else," Travis couldn't meet Ash's gaze.

Ash gave him a hard look. "Why?"

"Because…" Travis covered his eyes. He didn't want to admit it. He didn't want it to be true. "I'm fucking gay, Ash."

She gasped and said nothing for a moment. Travis let out a shaky breath and uncovered his eyes to see her. Ash embraced him, crying. Travis started crying too.

When they separated, Travis's hair fell over his face. Ash brushed it out of the way.

"Travis," She said, holding his cheek. "I'm proud of you"

Travis smiled slightly. "I'm sorry."

"No, no no no. Don't apologize, it's okay," Ash wiped a tear off his face. "It's okay."

"It's just–" Travis laughed bitterly. "It's wrong, but it just feels so... I don't…"

Ash looked sympathetic, but didn't talk.

"And… Phillip," Travis stared fondly off into space.

"Wait–" Ash said suddenly. "You and Phillip? Really?"

He nodded.

"That's," She smiled. "That's great."

Travis laid back, his head landing on his pillow. "And that's why I'm leaving."

"Is there any way you can get out of it?"

"No. They'll call my Father if I'm not there."

"We have to go to the police it something, get him thrown in jail?"

"Ash. You know for a fact they won't do shit."

They sat quietly for a moment.

"There's really no way out of it, huh?"

"Nope."

"I hope you'll be okay." 

Ash got up. "I'm sorry, I need to go. Want to come?'

"I'm okay."

And she left, while Travis laid in bed. He had to pack. Or eat. Or both. No. He went to his desk and sat down. He stared at the messy pile of papers before him, and huffed. Father would definitely go through these. Fucking Christ, he couldn't do anything. Whatever. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am… so tired.


	26. I'll Miss You

One day. He'd go to school for one day. Just to say goodbye.

Travis slipped a note into Phillip's locker.

_Meet me out back. We need to talk._

He skipped class. All of them. He just waited. Maybe he wouldn't show up. What if it was just a one-time thing? No. No stop thinking about it.

Phillip sat next to Travis, bit he didn't look up. He leaned on Phillip, and spoke.

"Is this going to be something?" He took a deep breath. "Or was that all just in the moment?"

He put a hand on Travis's shoulder and pulled him close, kissing his forehead. "If you want it to be something, I'm down."

Travis dug his face into Phillip's shirt.

"That's just going to make this harder," he looked into Phillip's eyes. "I'm going. Father's sending me off."

"Where?"

"I… look, I'll be gone for a while. Don't go near the church, go on vacation, just stay away from my Father."

Phillip didn't ask any questions, but tightened his grip on Travis's shoulder a bit. He held in like Travis would disappear the second he let go, and Travis held onto him too.

"I don't wanna go…" Travis teared up.

"I know."

"I wanna stay..."

"I know."

They stayed sitting, past the bell. Travis rested his head on Phillip's chest, listening to his heartbeat. Making sure there was a heartbeat.

"Travis," Phillip said suddenly. Travis looked up. "I won't ask where you're going. I think I have a good idea, but I won't ask. I just want you to promise you won't hurt yourself."

He nodded silently.

"Let's get out of here. We can go somewhere and actually do something."

So they skipped the rest of school to walk around. They went to a convenience store, Travis waiting outside while Phillip bought cigarettes. He had some time to think, there. It was like he had four days to live before he was taken away forever. It wasn't really forever but he'd be there until he was 'cured'. He didn't want to be cured. He wanted to stay with Phillip and Ash.

Phillip rushed out of the store and grabbed Travis by his wrist.

"We have to go," he sounded desperate as he pulled Travis around the corner. "Now."

"Wha– wait–" he sputtered.

"I'll tell you when we get further away."

They walked fast. Phillip held on to Travis so tight it was starting to hurt. He didn't ask more questions until they stopped at a place a few blocks off, in an alleyway.

"What happened?" Travis asked nervously. Phillip took a deep breath.

"Okay. So, I saw a few people u recognized from your church thing, and they were… talking. I don't know about what, but one said something about… 'getting rid of the Phelps boy'."

Travis nodded. "Don't worry about it," he said quietly. "I'm used to that."

Phillip stared in disbelief. "Hold the fuck up–"

"That's just how they talk. It's about me leaving," Travis seemed so much more timid than before. "Don't worry about it."

"What in the…" Phillip shook his head. "Why do you always get so quiet when someone asks about the church or your dad?"

"You know why!" Travis clenched his fists. "You know very fucking well why! So why should I have to talk about it?"

He snapped back to silence. It was odd how quickly he could go from viciously angry to quietly timid in an instant.

"Jesus, sorry."

"It's okay. I'm sorry for yelling."

They both stood quietly. Travis fidgeted with his sleeve, not looking at Phillip, who sighed.

"Okay. Whatever. Let's go."

"What? Where?"

"I dunno. Somewhere."

An idea lit up in Travis's head. "I've got a spot, if you're up for a bit of a walk."

"You got it."

Travis led Phillip far off, to a place close to his home. It was a little field, with long grass and lots of flowers. It was pretty, a little place he'd go when he was in seventh or eighth grade, back then.

He fell backwards into grass, laying on it like a pillow. Phillip sat next to him. Travis sat up on his elbows and grabbed Phillip's collar, bringing their lips together.

" _Fuck_ ," Phillip whispered as they separated. He wrapped his hands around Travis's waist, and laid back so that Travis was on top of him. He snaked his fingers into his hair, and they kissed again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably won't be uploading for a couple weeks, so you may have to make do. Idk, maybe not, depends on whether or not my arm is broken.


	27. Kiss Goodbye

A hug, and a kiss. Things to remember before he was gone. Put away. He didn't want to go. He wanted, desperately, to stay.

Travis held on tightly to Ash. He didn't want to say goodbye to her, or Phillip. But Phillip wasn't there. He just couldn't bring himself to talk to him, it just hurt so much. So he didn't. He said goodbye yesterday, anyway.

"Be safe. Don't hurt yourself," Ash said quietly, cupping Travis's face in her hands. "You promised us, right?"

"Right. Bye, I'll miss you."

They em raced again before Travis reluctantly got in the back seat of Father's car. Ash smiled sadly as he drove off, but Travis could barely focus on anything. He didn't look at his father, simply stating at nothing as they drove. Scenery flew by. It would be comforting if he didn't know where he was going. When they stopped, he knew where he was, and he just wanted to stay in the car. But he couldn't.

Travis quietly picked up his backpack and stood at the gates of the large brick building. It apparently was a Christian school way back when, but not anymore. Now it stood intimidatingly on the countryside, large lettering on the sign out front reading very clearly.

_St. Trinity_

There were a few other people there, most around Travis's age or older, bit not by much. Nobody older than eighteen. He stood against the tall walls by the gate, watching as hell d father drove away. The other guys all seemed like they had no intention of speaking to him or each other. Didn't matter, that meant he could just sit and wait. Wait for the gates to open, and for the nuns to invite them in.

So he waited, staring off into nothing. Just wait. More people started arriving eventually, and they were mostly all if the same demographic. Fifteen to eighteen years old boys. Made sense. Two of them were talking quietly, and Travis couldn't help but eavesdrop.

"… But what's it like?" One boy said, his voice a bit high-pitched.

"Bad," an older-sounding boy said. "I swear, after the first night you'll wish you'd jumped out of the car on your way."

He's not wrong, Travis thought.

They stopped talking, and Travis didn't look over to see what was up. Whatever, he wasn't about to butt into someone else's business.

 


	28. Tile Floors

They were herded in like sheep, led into a back room. Old tile covered the walls and floor, and the room itself was rather dim.

They were lined against the wall and told to strip down to their underwear. Some did so reluctantly, while others simply shut their mouths and complied. But, the next part always left them shaking.

In line again, each person was called up. The woman who called them had a soft and sweet voice. It was too calm for what was happening.

The first boy in line. The nervous-sounding boy from before. He did as instructed, kneeling before a tub of cold water with his hands behind his back. Workers restrained him, and dunked his head. When they pulled him out, he hardly had a chance to gasp for air before he was dunked back in. This repeated, over and over, to the horror of each one in line. The boy barely managed to choke out a sob between dunks. Then, he was tossed aside, told to go stand by the tightly locked door and wait.

The process repeated.

"Phelps," the Sweet-voice woman called. He hardly heard get voice before he nervously stepped over and kneeled.

Restrained, they dunked him. He thrashed and struggled, but they gripped him tighter. Water rushed into his mouth and nose, suffocating him further as they forcefully ripped him back out. He shuddered, the cold, damp hair sticking to his forehead.

Water dropped from his face before they dunked him in again. He couldn't differentiate between the filthy water and his own tears as they cleansed him.

"Go stand by the wall with the others, hun," the Sweet-voice woman said quietly. Of course he had to comply.

That boy from before had broken down against the wall, and that other boy he was talking to outside was comforting him.

"Look, you'lll be okay. It's hard, but it's not forever," he said quietly.

The boy hugged the other boy, but he was quickly pushed away.

"What are you doing? They'll-"

"Anderson! Keller!" An older woman with a far from pleasant voice called.

"Yes ma'am," the two boys said. You could see the nervous one's hope be crushed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have any suggestions for the fic, I'd be happy to read them in the comments!  
> Also sorry for hurting the Travvy boi, but I swear that there will be Karma.


	29. Explain

Ash, Sal, and Larry we're hanging out in Larry's room. They had some pizza and drinks, and were playing video games.

"So, Ash," Sal started, sipping root beer through a straw. "How has Travis been?"

She sighed. "He's gone for the summer."

"Y'all dating or something?" Larry asked, not taking his eyes off the screen. "You hang out with him a lot."

"Nah, he's, uh, he's taken."

"Who the fuck would want to date him?" Larry laughed a bit.

"Yeah, who is it?" Sal said curiously.

"He told me not to tell anyone…"

"C'mon, Ash, please? For me?" Sal tilted his head.

"I don't-"

"Dude, just tell us. Not like we'll tell anyone."

Ash sighed. She didn't want to tell them, really, but if they really wouldn't tell…

"You guys know Phillip Hallwell?"

Sal and Larry stared in disbelief until Larry piped up.

"Ho-ly fuck. You're saying the good Christian, fucking priest's son, is gay?"

"Uh, yeah. Please, don't tell anyone, please."

"I kinda suspected," Sal shrugged. "Didn't expect him to get a boyfriend."

"I figured daddy would beat the shit outta him."

"Look, let's stop talking about it. I don't really want to right now."

"Fine, fine," Larry paid a bit more attention to the game. "Why did he even tell you?"

"We're friends. I think I'm his only friend."

"How'd that happen?"

Sal glanced at her nervously. She looked at him and sighed.

"Sal made me. He wanted to see what Travis's deal was."

Larry died in his game.

"Sally Face, dude, what the hell?" He stared at him. "That's fucked up."

"I- I mean-" Sal sputtered, trying to pull together a defense. "Look, I knew something was up, and he wouldn't talk to me!"

"Why not just leave it, man?"

"I… just wanted to know."

Silence. Tense silence. Sal shifted uncomfortably, switching his gaze from Larry to Ash, and back again.

"Look, like I said, leave it. I don't want to talk about him when he's not here."

"Fine, I guess."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the wait, I was at a CTC for a couple weeks (Cadets thing), and didn't have any wifi to post.


	30. Primary

Travis looked over at Cassidy, the nervous boy from before. He had dark circles under his eyes, and was barely eating. Not that the food was great anyway. Travis decided to focus on himself for now. Trying to pick someone else's problems apart doesn't help anything.

At most, there were about twenty boys here, with seven staff members. The Sweet-voice woman was named Audrey, and she was the one in charge of their schedule. The older woman, who the staff called "Nana", was in charge of discipline. She could be terrifying.

They didn't do much here. Everyone was basically allowed to roam around as they wished, so long as they were supervised. It was like kindergarten. It wasn't like they were five, everyone there was fourteen or older. But whatever.

Cassidy tapped on Travis's shoulder. He smiled weakly and gestured to a napkin by his feet.

"Could you get my napkin? I dropped it."

"Sure."

Travis reached down and grabbed it, handing it over.

Cassidy was short. He had ratty dark brown hair and sickly pale skin. You could mistake him for a corpse if he wasn't always fidgeting or moving. He had these little tics. On occasion, his hand would move like some invisible person was jerking him around. It was charming, in a way, even if he hated it so much. The guy comforting him before, Jackson, seemed to be an old friend. He was actually quite tall, well-built, black hair and more tanned skin. As Travis had overheard, Jackson was eighteen.

Not surprising, really.

He also had a southern accent. He mentioned that he lived in Texas with his dad, but his mother lived in Nockfell. Apparently she'd sent him here after he was caught with another guy.

Lilia Keller. She was one of the regulars at church. Tall, yeah, and dark hair and skin. There was definitely a resemblance.

____

Ever since he'd arrived, Travis had adopted the "fuck it" worldview. The worst thing they could do while he was here was hurt him, so he didn't much care about anything. He just wanted this all to pass before he could go home and see Phillip and Ash. There's no way they can make him stop loving them. None. If they tried, he'd resist. That's all he could do.

After supper, Travis sat alone in his bed. He promised Ash he wouldn't hurt himself, but it was tempting. Way too tempting. He felt like he was dying.

"Go on sweetheart," A voice said from behind him. It was Audrey. She sat behind him on his bed, but he didn't move. "Do it. I'm here to make you happy, and that makes you happy, does it not?"

"What would you know about my happiness?"

"Everything," She whispered. "I know everything about you, Travis Joseph Phelps. I know about Phillip, too."

His blood ran cold.

"Don't worry, we'll get him out of your head before you leave here."

"What if I don't want that."

"Trust me, sweetheart, you do. It's for your own good. Now get some sleep, or you'll be tired tomorrow."

He huffed, and laid back on his side. "I won't do anything you say."

"Yes, you will. Now goodnight, Travis. Have sweet dreams."

"Go away."

Audrey stood up off of the bed and sat back in her chair by the door, watching them. It was like the lady never slept. Travis closed his eyes, but didn't sleep a moment that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter to make up for he shortness of the last one and the huge wait.  
> Hope y'all like this.


	31. Mundanity

One phone call.

They got one phone call a week.

Travis decided to call Ash every chance he got. They talk, and he'd ask about Phillip.

"He's still doing fine, but he misses you."

"I miss you guys so much. But it's only another month, I'll be okay."

"I hope so."

_________

It really wasn't terrible. It was bad, but not terrible. That's why it worked. Slowly, everyone became content and conforming. They were worn down by the pure mundanity of the place. But that was of you took it all quietly.

Travis was sitting against the wall outside the chapel behind the main building. He was scratching absently at the scars on his arm, exhausted after the day. Jackson came out back with a pack of cigarettes and stood close by. Not next to him, but near. He started smoking and sighed, not looking at Travis, and Travis kept scratching.

Jackson had a tattoo on his neck. Huh.

He kept scratching until he could feel something warm on the tips of his fingers. He checked, and of course. He was bleeding pretty well.

"Fucking bullshit…" Travis huffed, trying to wipe some blood off with his hand, but only ending up smearing it around.

"Jesus, what did you do?" Jackson asked, looking over.

"Nothing, I'm fine. God– do you have a napkin?"

"No dice, sorry dude."

"Ugh."

Travis ran inside the chapel and stole a white cloth. He wrapped his arm and pulled his sleeve over it. Walking back out, Jackson was standing closer to the door.

"Wait" Jackson stopped him.

"What do you–" before he could finish, Jackson punched Travis in the face. He stumbled back, and retaliated. Travis managed a solid hit to Jackson's nose before he was shoved against the wall and kicked until he fell. But, as he did, he saw Nana on her way over.

_Ha, fucker._

She smacked the back of Jackson's head, and he fell to the ground. Two male staff members appeared and started dragging him. Nana turned her attention to Travis.

"Mister Phelps, I thought we were past this…" She shook her head. "Come along. You'll receive appropriate punishment."

"But– I–"

"You are out of line."

He let her escort him to the basement. He held out his hands, palms-up, as instructed. But compliance helped nothing. She put two huge books on each hand and stepped back.

"You'll be here, with those books, until I return. Honestly, Mister Phelps, your father is one and only reason we've been going easily on you. Remember that."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Then she left.

Of course. They weren't fucking doing anything to him. It was all that old bastard's idea to bring him here. He didn't know how to really feel. Grateful, maybe? Who knows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm tired. The next few chapters are gonna kind of suck, but I swear it'll get better after I'm out of this slump.


	32. New Volunteer

Nana stood before everyone, clapping her hands to get their attention.

"Children!" Nana yelled. She always called them children. "We have a guest!"

Everyone exchanged confused glances. They never brought in visitors.

"Everyone, please welcome Mr. Altmann! He's a big supporter of our program here!"

A pale man with black hair and hazel eyes walked into the relatively large room. He had a businessman smile, one that you could tell was purely a formality with no emotion behind it, yet you can't help but return it. He looked so familiar, and his smile seemed to falter a bit when he noticed Travis.

"Hello, boys. I'm Eric Altmann, as you know. I'll mostly be here, helping out around the place. This used to be the school my sister and I went to, you know. Just tell me if you need anything, I got the whole week off!"

He was just so overly cheerful. And he kept glancing at Travis, such a cold look in his eyes. But it was so brief, he couldn't tell if it was really malicious.

Nana dismissed them, and they went back to doing what they always did. Cleaning, moving heavy things and so on. Nobody really paid much attention to Mr. Altmann. But Travis, he stared for a moment, lingering before wandering off. It was probably nothing.

While he was washing dishes alone in the kitchen, Mr. Altmann watched from the doorway. His face was neutral, but there was something so frustratingly familiar about his eyes. They stared into him, past him, with disgust. He stepped forward.

"Travis… Phelps, correct?" He started smiling again. "I think I knew your father."

Then it hit him like a brick. He stopped, not breathing, and looked back into Mr. Altmann's eyes. His mother's eyes. _His_ eyes. All Travis could do was stare, his face one of mild shock, but he was more than that.

"You look just like him," He was still smiling. "But he's untouchable. I could never get to him," there were a few more steps forward, and he held Travis's face. "You have her smile. The one that he took from her."

Travis couldn't say anything, and Altmann released him.

"She had her whole life ahead of her. But you had to ruin it, didn't you? Bastard."

"I'm–"

"You'll talk when I say you can. Who's the one in charge here, me or you?" He backed Travis into a corner and stood over him. "Daddy's not here, so I'm gonna keep you in line. You got that? Look at me when I'm talking to you. Yeah, look scared. Be as scared as you want. It's your fault she's dead, you know. Yours."

"I didn't–"

"Emily didn't deserve this."

He looked sorrowful, staring down at Travis. His hands were shaking.

"You're coming with me. You will feel what she felt. What you did to her."

Altmann practically dragged Travis into the basement kicking and screaming, but Travis could do neither. He didn't know why, but he felt the same creeping terror he felt at home. The terror that held him in place as his father beat the sin out of him.

He opened wooden door that looked like every other one in the building and let Travis inside. There was a table and a chair. Altmann, barely holding it together, calmly told him to sit and left. He shut the door behind him and locked it.

The room was fairly dark, and very quiet. Travis rested his head in the table and shut his eyes, waiting for something to happen. It was so quiet...

But it wasn't a nice quiet. It was the deafening quiet you hear just before you flatline at the hospital. He banged his head on the table, just to get some kind of sound, but then the light went out. No light, no sound, nothing. It was suffocating. He screamed but he couldn't hear anything. What was happening? Where was he? Jesus– was he still alive? He could see things on the darkness. Faces. Disappointed faces. Their eyes bore into him. He thrashed and struggled but invisible hands held him down. We're his eyes open or closed? He couldn't tell at all. He hardly noticed when his consciousness faded.

He woke up in bed, but it wasn't a dream. What the hell did Altmann do to him? Whatever, it was nothing. He wasn't hurt. He was safe. Cassidy was asleep a few beds down, like always.

Travis laid back onto his pillow and sighed.

_It's not forever._

_______

Meeting Altmann was painful. Seeing his mother's face around him was terrifying. He hated it. Cassidy noticed after a while that Travis wasn't really doing great.

"Hi," he said so quietly that Travis almost didn't hear.

"Oh, hi."

"You good? You don't seem… good."

His eyes started to tic.

"I'm okay."

"Um…" Cassidy bit his bottom lip nervously and looked away. "Sorry."

_Whatever._

Travis was going to get out. He was. He'd get out if it killed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!  
> I might come out with a comic version of these stories, just for fun. For now, though, enjoy the writing!


	33. Without a Sound

"Father," Travis said quietly. "May I come home?"

"Have you learned your lesson, Travis? Have they taught you right?"

"Yes Father."

"Will you stay away from that horrid boy?"

"Yes Father."

"And you remember what will happen if you disobey me again?"

"Yes Father."

"Alright. I'll pick you up tomorrow."

"Thank you Father."

  
___________

Just another day. Nothing could go wrong. He thought.

Cassidy was gone. He didn't know where, but he wasn't around. Travis didn't think too much of it before Audrey appeared beside him.

" _Travis_ ," she wore a sweet smile as she spoke. "Come along."

"Yes ma'am."

He followed, bored and tired. Travis had deemed Audrey creepy, but harmless. She was small and dainty and really hardly did anything at all.

Audrey led him into the basement and opened the door. He looked inside. Jackson. Dead. Cassidy was convulsing on the ground, wounded and sobbing. The other boys… were watching. Blank-faced. And then Nana. Standing over everything silently. Travis backed away slowly, and Audrey spoke again. Her voice was like warm honey, and it was deeply unsettling.

"Go on, Travis. It is your birthright to complete the ritual. You know it will help."

He started walking away without a thought, but Audrey grabbed his arm and wouldn't let go.

He did something he didn't think he could do. He didn't want to do. He twisted his wrist to make her let go, and grabbed her long, brown hair. Over and over, he bashed her head into the stone wall. She was screaming. Her temple hit the stone again and again, making a horrid crunching sound. Travis finally realised what he was doing when she went silent. He stopped, but it was too late. When he let go, Audrey was limp. She fell on the ground, blood seeping from her head and staining the cold concrete floors. Her eyes were wide open and she wasn't responding.

Travis panicked. His Father always said "never lay your hands on a woman", and he just fucking killed one. He ran up the stairs and just… waited. He curled up into a ball and sobbed, waiting for his father to come pick him up and take him away. Anything was better than this. That old fucking stuffy house was better than seeing Cassidy in that much pain. To imagine Phillip or Ash like that… he just couldn't. And Audrey, dead on the floor. How the fuck could he do that? She wasn't a lot older than him, she was young and clearly needed some kind of mental fucking help. But no. He bashed her head in.

Someone began rubbing circles on his back, and again he reacted. He threw his fist into Altmann's face and watched him stumble back. The bastard. He started smiling. Travis leaned back, away from him, but he came closer.

"Don't touch me!" Travis screamed, tears rolling down his face.

Altmann stopped smiling, and glared at Travis. "That's not supposed to happen."

"My father will be here tomorrow! Don't you dare do anything!"

That's when Altmann stopped anything subtle. He looked visibly angry and pinned Travis down on the ground with his foot. It was squarely between his shoulder blades preventing any movement.

"Your Father won't do anything. He doesn't fucking love you. But I would. I could show you every bit of love I showed Emily before he stole her," he looked closer at Travis. "But you look just like him. I could change that."

"He loves me! Father loves me!"

"Then why does he hit you? Why does he ignore you and dump all the chores on you?"

"Because I'm the only one he has left!" Travis screeched. He was going off the rails. "And he's all I have!"

"He _hates_ you-"

Travis lashed out. He managed to throw Altmann off him and stand up. Without a second thought, he grabbed his neck and started blindly slamming his fist into Altmann's face, his thumb pressing down on his windpipe. 

He blacked out, but… not really. His vision went fuzzy, just like it did when he bashed Audrey's head in. He struggled against it, but it was like bashing on a window three inches thick with his bare hands. He just stared, eyes wide, into space.

Them he was back in that room. The silent room. Screaming without it making a sound. It made him want to scream again, but he couldn't move.

In another instant, he was curled up on the ground, trembling and sobbing.

There was no escape. All Travis could do was wait. Wait, with blood on his hands, for his father to come get him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruh  
> This killed me to write so next chapter will be happier and less violent.


	34. He's Gone

Travis got in the back seat of the car, silent as his father's eyes assessed him.

"Hello, Father."

No answer. He started the car and they drove off. Travis's hands were shaking, and he was just staring out the window. Nothing happened in the walls of St. Trinity. Nothing.

He… didn't remember much, though.

It was a quieter ride back. Father seemed satisfied with Travis's obedience and didn't appear to notice anything too different. Which was fine.

They arrived home, and Father went back to work. Travis immediately went to Ashley's house and knocked on the door. It was Ash's mother who answered the door, looking at him with mild confusion.

"Oh, um, is Ashley home?"

"Not right now. She's at her friends house."

"Which friend?"

"The, uh… blue haired girl with the mask, I think."

"Okay. Thank you, sir."

Sal's house it is. Okay.

Travis started back on that way. It was just near the church, so that was a but of a problem. He did his best to hide his face when he went by, and, luckily, it seemed there was nobody outside. He ran in the apartment and memories from… months ago, now, rushed back to him. Everything. The beating. The care. Sal's voice as he comforted him. Everything. He pushed everything down and kept going. Stepping into the elevator, Travis attempted to remember Sal's apartment number.

"Second… no, fourth floor…"

He managed to at least be right there. Travis knocked on Sal's door, and sure enough, he answered.

"Oh… hey, Travis," Sal sounded more than a bit confused, and kind of uncomfortable. "What are you doing here?"

"Is Ash here?" He said quickly.

"Um, yeah, er… Ash!"

She poked her head around the corner, and her eyes lit up.

"Travis!" She squealed, running over and squeezing him into a hug. "Are you okay? Did you…" she tapped lightly on his forearm. He looked away nervously. Ash's face dropped slightly, but she hugged him again. "That's okay. It's all okay. You're safe."

"I'm going to go see Phillip."

Ash covered her mouth and stared, wide-eyed, at Travis.

"Y-you don't know. Christ– you don't know," She looked at Sal. "I need to go. Now. Tell Larry I'm sorry, and that we can fucking draw later, this is important."

Sal could barely nod before Ash was pulling Travis out of the building. She sat him down behind the apartments and held both of his hands very tightly.

"Phillip… committed suicide. He's gone."

He would've shot himself right there and then. He refused to believe it.

"Tell me he's alive."

"Wha– Trav–"

"Tell me he's alive. I don't care if you're lying through your teeth, tell me he's alive!"

Her eyes moved across his face, and then looked down.

"I'm sorry."

The camp. It wasn't supposed to do anything. It was never meant for that. It was to keep Travis away just long enough for everything to go wrong.

He didn't cry. He didn't scream or break anything. He just stared off into space. He saw the figures of judgement he saw in the room, in the trees, in his dreams. Visions swirled in front of him, and he was left unaware of his sorroundings.

Ashley watched Travis fall to his side, eyes wide, and start seizing. _Oh God. Oh no._

She did what she was always taught to do. She took her wallet and stuck it in his mouth to prevent him from damaging his teeth, and left him. His muscles tightened and relaxed, and his whole body seemed to be trying to move in a different direction, tearing him apart. It was torture to watch so helplessly, but that's all she could do. How long would this be? Probably not more than five minutes at worst…

He finally stopped moving and laid motionless on the grass. Ash took her wallet back. It had holes where he bit so hard… Travis could've shattered his teeth. At least her wallet was empty. Should she take him to the hospital? No, he'd object pretty strenuously to that.

She settled on learning him back up against the building and waiting. He was breathing okay and wasn't injured. When his eyes opened again Ash rubbed his back sympathetically and smiled.

"W-what happened?" He asked drearily.

"Um… I think you had a seizure? You're okay, though."

He put a hand on his chest and sighed. "Pretty shitty time to have fucking seizure. Was starting to think it'd never happen…"

"What?"

"Oh, my mother was epileptic. She didn't get seizures often, but I remember it happening a couple of times. I'll be okay."

"That's… good."

"Yeah."

Ash tapped Travis's forearm lightly, like she did back at Sal's apartment, silently telling him to roll up his sleeve. He complied, reluctantly.

"This… doesn't look too bad. It's mostly healed, and it's not too recent."

"I'm sorry I didn't keep the promise I made to you guys. And now that Phillip's… I can't apologize to him."

"I honestly didn't expect you to be so calm. I figured you would throw more of a fit…"

"I feel pretty fucking high right now. Happens right before and after a seizure. Believe me, I'll throw a fit."

"One more thing. You're living with me for a bit."

And that's when Travis came down.

"I'm what now?"

"I decided you're gonna live with me for a while. Going back to that house isn't going to do you any good. You need _help_ , Travis."

"What if I don't want help?"

"You'll get it anyway. I'm not letting you go that easily."

"But– I– you–" Travis sputtered. "What about your parents?"

"I told them about your... situation."

"You fucking did what?" He stood up suddenly, knocking Ash back.

"All I said was you've been having a rough time at home and needed a place to go, don't worry!"

He tried to calm down, leaning against the wall and taking deep breaths.

He slid back down and sat next to Ash. He was so close to crying. Bawling his eyes out.

"Fine."

"Wait, really?"

"Yeah. Fine. I'll go."

She put her head on his shoulder and sighed.

"I'm so proud of you, you know. I don't tell you that enough."

"..." Travis bit his fingernail nervously. "Phillip. He's really, really gone, isn't he."

"… Yeah."

"Damnit…" Travis mumbled. He wished he'd just run away and kept him safe. It would've been fine. All okay. It was fine. "Ashley?"

"Hm?"

"There really isn't a god, is there?"

"I don't know. We won't know until we're dead."

"Right. Okay." He sighed. "Let's go to your house. I don't wanna think anymore."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, maybe happier wasn't the right word. But less violent.  
> Oh, btw, I'm epileptic and this is just how my seizures work. Hallucinations, seize for a bit, tired and kinda high after. It's different for everyone I think.


	35. Without Thinking

Travis was packing his things. Ashley wanted to go with him, but he politely declined. She decided to just wait at her house while he finished up. 

He stuffed a few drawers' worth of clothes into his small suitcase and started towards the door. On his way out, Father's bedroom door caught his eye. If he was leaving, he might as well snoop. 

He went through Father's closet, finding a small black box. He opened it slowly, and stopped. 

A gun. 

Travis looked it over. 

Correction, loaded gun. 

"Travis."

He moved without thinking, and shot. 

Shot his father.


	36. Epilogue

"Hey, Travis!" Ash grinned and hugged him. His small, sanitary room was decorated with drawings and paintings that she sent over.

"Ash!" He hugged her back.

He'd been in the hospital for a bit to help with his issues. Being on such a calm place really was helping. That's what the court decided after… what he did. Now, Travis was eating enough every day, so he looked much less malnourished and way healthier. He'd also grown out his hair a bit. It was about halfway to his shoulders, and kept out if his eyes with little pins. He really, truly, looked like a healthy person.

"I got you some flowers," She presented bouquet, filled with roses and bluebells. He took them and smiled.

"Thanks."

Together, they say on Travis's bed and he berated her with questions.

"How was your last year of school?" He asked.

"It was nice. How were classes here?"

"Great! I had a lot of fun in them, actually."

There were pill bottles all over his nightstand.

"How have things been in Nockfell? I miss it there."

"Good, good. Now that we're all graduated, Sal found a place for us all to stay."

"That's awesome! Man, I'd love to visit."

"That's why I'm here," Ash was smiling excitedly. "The nurse said that you're allowed to go back with me for a couple days!"

"Oh my God, really?"

"Really."

Travis squealed, running to his little closet. He pulled out some black jeans and a pale blue sweater.

"What do you think?"

"Ditching the classic pink?"

"Purple, and yeah. Decided I'd put it away for a bit."

"That's nice. Blue is a good look for you."

"Thanks."

They left, Travis taking every little thing he had to. Pills he took with lunch, the phone provided by the hospital, and a little camera.

"Where do you want to go, Trav?"

"My house. I wanna see how it's doing under Bonnie's care."

"Bonnie?"

"My aunt Bonnie. She's my dad's sister, and has been taking care of the place."

"How do you know?"

"She visits me."

"Makes sense. Huge funeral for your dad, by the way. Made the news. Did you go?"

"Nope."

"Oh. Well, he's buried next to your mom."

"I know."

They got in Ash's car and she started driving. Travis looked out the window like a kid way too excited for a field trip. First stop, old Phelps house.

They pulled up and Travis ran out. He stared blankly at the place. Same old huge house on Ander Street. His eyes flicked around the building and took a step back. He got back in car put his hands over his eyes.

"Nevermind. I'll burn this place to the fucking ground next time I see it."

"Okay. It's okay. What do you want to do now, then?"

"Lunch."

"Where?"

"Um… I don't know any food places. My dad didn't let me eat out."

"Right, right. How about we just go over to Sal and Todd's place?"

"Yeah. Sounds nice."

They drove to the house Sal picked out with Neil and Todd. They'd started moving in in May, and were almost done.

"Hey guys!" Ash yelled when she opened the door and let Travis inside.

"Jesus Christ, Ashley, I'm right he–" Todd stared at Travis. "What's he doing here? I thought he was in a mental hospital."

"He was, but he's out with me today."

"Ooh, okay..." Todd still looked a bit uneasily at Travis. "Sorry."

"No, I'm… sorry. I was a dick in highschool, I know."

"Oh, that's okay."

Ash led Travis to the kitchen and sat him down at the table.

"What do you want?"

"Umm… anything."

"Leftovers it is."

Ash and Travis sat at the table and talked for a while.

"Don't forget to take your pills, Trav."

"Oh, thanks."

He dug through his bag and took a few bottles.

"What do you need them for, anyway?"

"Umm… the nurse says PTSD and depression. Plus my Epilepsy meds I guess."

"You don't seem too bothered."

"I'm not. What did you expect, really."

"I dunno. I figured you wouldn't be doing as well as you are."

"The hospital is helpful. I like it there, and they say I could be discharged in the next few months."

"That's great! What are you gonna do?"

"With my life? I… I'll probably work at the church like my dad. I don't have a lot of other options. Like, who's going to hire a kid who killed his dad and spent ten months in a mental hospital. Not to mention my garbage grades up until then."

"Seems okay. But I don't know if Nockfell is a good place to be after… your childhood."

"It's fine. Once Bonnie goes back home, I'll get the house."

"I thought you hated it."

"I do, but still. It's a family house. I'll burn it one day, just not yet."

"Right."

They changed the subject. Travis talked about Ripley and how much he missed her. She died a few weeks before. Ash talked about Ben.

"Dumbass broke his arm climbing a tree. Can't believe him sometimes."

"Oh, come on. How old is he?"

"Thirteen."

"Okay nevermind. Dumbass it is."

"Right?"

They laughed together. This was nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter! Not a lot of notice, but here you are.  
> I'll probably make a sequel with Travis as pastor.  
> If you're wondering about why Travis only got shoved in a mental hospital...  
> He's the child of a literal cult leader, and that cult can definitely manipulate court proceedings.  
> If you have any suggestions, leave them in the comments!


End file.
